


Bury Your Dead

by CocoBadShip



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Domestic Violence, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-04-03 17:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21488482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CocoBadShip/pseuds/CocoBadShip
Summary: If you had asked Edward Buckley to describe his parenting style, he would’ve told you that he was a “disciplinarian.”
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 137
Kudos: 1530





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this fic idea bouncing around in my head for the past few days, and just decided to start writing it out. There are aspects of Buck's personality in the show that have lead me to the conclusion that Buck may not have had the most loving of upbringings. 
> 
> I really want to try to explore the idea of surviving an abusive childhood, and having to work through the complicated feelings that come from that type of upbringing.

“Dad’s dead.”

Buck hears the words. He hears them clear as day. They echo through his head, blaring like a nerve-grating siren. Buck hears the way Maddie’s voice shakes as she speaks them, the way her voice cracked harder on “Dad” than it did on “dead.” It’s a short, succinct sentence, understandable despite the trembling of his big sister’s voice. 

Yet, Buck  _ still  _ cannot believe what he just heard. 

“Evan? Did . . . did you  _ hear  _ me?”

Maddie hardly ever calls Buck “Evan.” Buck can probably count the number of times he’s heard his first name come out of his sister’s mouth on two hands. “Evan” means trouble. “Evan” means danger. “Evan” means something that Buck can’t come back from. “Evan” means that what Maddie’s just said is  _ real.  _

“Yeah,” Buck can barely hear his own voice over the sound of the rest of the squad coming in from their call. “Yeah, I heard you.”

Maddie looks down at the ground, uncharacteristically uncertain and awkward. She laces and unlaces her fingers, her eyebrows knitting together as she stares at the firehouse floor. She looks like a kid again. 

“I should’ve just called later . . .” Maddie mumbles, and Buck hates that voice so much that he drops his helmet next to his feet and takes hold of Maddie’s shoulders. 

“Hey, hey, no, don’t--don’t do that,” Buck stammers. “It’s good you came. I mean, it makes sense, considering . . .”

Maddie looks up at Buck with wet eyes. Buck lets his hands fall back down to his sides as he takes in the grief on Maddie’s face. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Maddie says in a thick voice. “I know. I’m just . . . I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling right now.” 

Buck nods, his mind traveling far, far away. It lands at the last time he saw their dad; 8 years ago, when he was 20 and about to leave Pennsylvania for the last time. When his dad split Buck’s lip and Buck blackened his dad’s eye and his dad screamed that he never wanted to see Buck’s pathetic ass again. When Buck walked out of the house and tried to block the sounds of Maddie and his mother sobbing only to end up getting on a bus and crying the entire ride. 

How could Maddie know what she’s feeling? How are you supposed to feel when someone like their father finally bites the dust? When he’s the only father you had and you were supposed to love him but  _ couldn’t _ ? 

“Mom wants us to come  _ home _ ,” Maddie says, and her voice has an edge to it that it didn’t have before. 

Buck’s stomach drops. He feels his face clouding, and he knows his own eyes are filling with tears. 

_ I’m not coming home. I’m never coming back. Not as long as  _ ** _he’s _ ** _ there.  _

Is their mom still mad at him for saying that? Is she still ashamed of Buck? 

Buck hears the sound of footfalls behind them. Before either of them can pull themselves together, Eddie is clasping a hand on Buck’s shoulders and Chimney is coming to wrap his arms around Maddie, surprised to see her at the station at this time of day. But Buck goes tense under Eddie’s touch, and Maddie looks so miserable that Chimney freezes mid-hug.

“What’s wrong?” Chimney asks in a painfully worried voice. “Maddie, are you okay?”

Maddie looks at Chimney with a weak smile. Buck feels Eddie trying to turn Buck in his direction, trying to look Buck in the face. But Buck won’t budge.

“No,” Buck growls. He answers the question Chimney asked, and the one Maddie did not. 

Chimney and Eddie both look at Buck, confused and concerned. Buck shakes Eddie’s hand off of his shoulder. Then he turns and walks away, trying to block out the sound of Eddie’s voice. Trying--and failing--to stop his own tears from falling down his face. 

##

Edward Buckley was a decorated war veteran with several medals and honors. After leaving the army, he joined city council, became the owner of the most successful car repair shop in Hershey, Pennsylvania, and built a reputation for being the quintessential, all-American businessman. Edward was known for rubbing elbows with politicians while also chatting with constituents and satisfied customers at grocery stores. He was known as a family man, with a beautiful wife and two smart, beautiful children. Edward Buckley was beloved by his whole community. 

Edward Buckley was also a violent, unstable man who spent his free time punching his only son Evan in the stomach. Edward would drink until he staggered, scream at his daughter Madison for acting like a “trashy slut” and cheat on his wife Patricia Buckley née Johnson with the neighbor woman who volunteered to babysit Evan and Madison. 

Edward once broke Evan’s arm because Evan forgot to take out the trash for the second time in a week. On several occasions, Edward told Madison that she was lucky that she was prettier than her mother, because she was so empty-headed that there was no way she would make in the world without a rich husband to help her along. At night, his children would sneak into each other’s room and whisper about how much they wished they were anywhere else other than their home. Some nights, Madison would wonder aloud about what would happen if Edward were to just drop dead and permanently leave them alone. 

Edward Buckley died of a massive heart attack on Sunday, February 16. He is survived by his estranged wife Patricia, and his even more estranged children, who now calls themselves Maddie and Buck. Edward’s funeral services will be held Saturday, February 22. 

##

Buck’s leg won’t stop shaking. 

He’s sitting on a bench in the locker, his elbows propped up on his knees, his head hanging down. Buck ran in here because he thought it’d be quiet. But the noise in his brain only gets louder in the tight space. And now his leg won’t stop shaking. 

It’s like Buck’s been tased: he can feel electricity tearing through his chest, making his insides come undone. Buck feels his skin buzzing, and his nerves are feeling more and more frayed. His leg keeps shaking, and Buck’s wondering if the shaking will dislodge something inside of him. Maybe it’ll shake loose this damn  _ feeling  _ he has, the one that’s been sitting in his stomach for the past 30 minutes. Maybe the constant, unnecessary motion is exactly what Buck needs to sort through the mess that is his memories. 

“Buck . . . ?” 

It’s Eddie, sounding more hesitant than Buck’s ever heard.

Buck lifts his head to see Eddie and Bobby slowly walking into the locker room. Bobby hovers around the entrance, ready to step out if Buck asks him to. Eddie, however, strides right over to Buck, invasive in a way that only a best friend can be. He sits down right next to Buck and peers into his face with soft brown eyes. 

“Buck? Do you want to talk?” Eddie says quietly. He knows how to talk to people who have lost someone. And he knows--all too well--what it’s like to have someone try to talk to him after he’s lost someone. 

Buck abruptly stands up, his movements jerky and clumsy. He fidgets before turning to face his locker, his back to Eddie and Bobby. Buck’s whole body shakes now, the electricity still running through his veins. 

“No, I’m good,” Buck says, as he fumbles with his locker. “I’m fine.” 

He hears total silence, and he knows that Bobby and Eddie are exchanging  _ a look.  _ Buck’s a terrible liar. But even if he wasn’t, who the fuck is  _ fine  _ after this type of news? 

“Buck,” Bobby says too gently, “ _ your father _ just passed. You’re allowed to not be  _ fine. _ ” 

Buck snatches his clothes and bag out of his locker. “I know. But I am. I’m okay, I’m good.” 

Buck feels Eddie stand up. Eddie cautiously puts his hand on Buck’s forearm, and, for a moment, Buck freezes to the spot. 

“Buck, it’s okay,” Eddie says. “We’re not trying to push you to cry or anything. But you don’t have to hold it in--”

Buck slams locker shut.

“It’s not like that! It’s not the same!” he blurts out. Eddie and Bobby both flinch, and Buck instantly hates himself. 

Buck’s face turns read. “I mean--my dad wasn’t like your dad,” he mutters. 

And that’s fucking stupid, because how does  _ he  _ know what Bobby and Eddie’s dads were like? They could’ve been just as bad. Or worse, even. 

Neither of them offer information about their fathers. They just both watch Buck warily, like he’s a wild cub that might scratch their eyes out if they’re not careful. 

“Okay,” Bobby says after a moment. “Just know that we’re both here for you. Anytime you need either of us.” 

Buck nods stiffly at Bobby. He really is grateful, even though he can’t begin to show it. 

Eddie doesn’t say anything. Instead, Eddie puts his hand high on Buck’s shoulder, his thumb landing on Buck’s collarbone. Eddie looks Buck in the eyes, and Buck wants to collapse into Eddie’s arms. Buck wants to fall into Eddie’s arms and bury his face in the side of Eddie’s neck and sob and scream and sob and scream until he’s gone hoarse and he can’t stand on his own two feet anymore. 

But Buck just blinks at Eddie. Then he slowly removes Eddie’s hand and steps around him.

“I need to talk to Maddie,” Buck mumbles, and he tries to ignore the look on his best friend’s face. 

Buck leaves Eddie and Bobby both in the locker room. He can feel them both watching his back as he goes. 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s unusually cold tonight. 

Even though he’s been sitting Maddie’s place for almost an hour, Buck’s still shivering from the bitingly icy wind. It’s like the cold has sunken into Buck’s bone, spreading throughout them, leaving a layer of frost on each joint. 

Maddie’s feeling it, too. She curls up in a ball on her couch, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top. Her cheeks are tinted red, and Buck can see the way she trembles as she takes a deep breath. 

Buck wants to go back to his own apartment. He wants to curl up in his own bed, deep underneath his own covers. But he can’t leave Maddie.

“Did Mom say anything else?” Buck asks. “You know, besides, ‘He’s dead, come home now?’” 

Maddie snorts and looks at Buck with a tired, wry smile.

“Not really,” Maddie says. “She said the funeral’s this Saturday, and we needed to be there.” 

“Because we’re his  _ family  _ and we  _ must _ show up for him,” Buck mutters. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I figured.” 

Buck shivers again. This time, it’s because of the way he parrotted their mom’s old saying. He can still hear the way she’d chide them, the way she reminded them that they were his  _ family  _ and they had to support him in everything he did. Even in death, they still have to “support” him. 

Maddie pulls her knees closer to her. “Maybe one of his girlfriends will show up, too.” 

A cruel laugh escapes Buck’s mouth. 

“Fuck, can you imagine that? Dad’s women all showing up, sitting next to each other.”

Maddie chuckles humorlessly. “I can, actually. They’ll sit in a row right behind all of Dad’s ‘business partners.’”

Buck leans back against Maddie’s couch, staring up at her ceiling. His eyes focus on a small crack in the ceiling. If he stares at it too long, Buck will fall down a rabbit hole of all the ways that crack can spread turn into a hole which could turn into a major catastrophe where someone ends up getting hurt. 

“Do you think Mom would say anything?” Buck asks, his eyes still focused on the crack. 

“ . . . No,” Maddie says quietly. “She’d pretend like she didn’t see them. Like she did a lot of things.” 

Buck nods, and he lets his eyes fall shut. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I think you’re right.” 

They sit there for a while, still and silent and shivering. Buck listens to the muffled sounds of traffic outside of Maddie’s building. He thinks of his mother’s face; a deep-set frown, solemn brown eyes, a few strands of thick brown hair escaping it’s bun and falling in front of her nose. 

“I mean, I understand why she does it,” Maddie suddenly says. “It’s easier to pretend not to see some things. It’s a lot safer that way. And God knows Mom had to worry about her safety.”

Buck opens his eyes and looks at his sister. She looks even smaller now, and she’s holding herself even tighter.

“I spent years being mad at her,” Maddie’s voice shakes. “_Years_. Only to turn out just like her.” 

Maddie’s words twist Buck’s heart into a knot. The very thought of what  _ that man  _ did to Maddie fills Buck with rage and sorrow. 

Buck reaches over and wraps his arms around Maddie. It should be an awkward position, but Maddie sighs with relief, leaning into Buck’s embrace.

“You didn’t deserve it, any of it,” Buck says fiercely. “Neither of you did. Nothing that happened to you guys is your fault. And you--you did what you had to do. Okay?” 

Maddie smiles, and her eyes fill with tears. She does look  _ just _ like their mother. 

“I know, Buck,” Maddie whispers. “I know. And so did she.” 

##

If you had asked Edward Buckley to describe his parenting style, he would’ve told you that he was a “disciplinarian.” 

He had to be! Edward had two fast-growing children to bring up in the world. Edward had a  _ son  _ to raise, a man to mold! He couldn’t be lax with them. He couldn’t let them frolic through life with no skills, or values, or morals. Edward’s children had to be upstanding people at all times, at all stages of their lives. So what if he had to raise his voice at Madison every now and then? So what if he had to lay his hands on Evan every once in a while? Edward was teaching them to be strong people. He didn’t want them to turn out weak, like their frustratingly simple mother. 

Of course, that’s what  _ Edward  _ would have said. If you were to ask his children, the story changes drastically. 

Maddie would tell you that the sound of Edward’s voice would make her blood run cold. She’d tell you that her father made her fidgety, made her flinch when she heard a door slam. Edward made her obsessive--first about cleaning, then about schoolwork, then about  _ everything.  _ Maddie would tell you that a piece of Edward burrowed itself deep within her brain, and that maybe Edward is part of the reason Maddie became ensnared with a man as despicable as Doug Kendall.

(Edward had actually liked Doug when he met him. Thought he was a man after his own heart.) 

As for Buck? Well, it’s actually a little hard to say. Buck never liked to think about his father much. He avoided Edward at all costs, and tried to abandon the thought of him once he left home. Edward Buckley was a bomb in Buck’s life, one that is too complicated to defuse. 

Besides, what else could Buck say? What could Buck say that would get his point across better than a fist into Edward’s face? 

##

Buck gets to work as early as he possibly can the next morning. 

He slips into the firehouse, and thanks God that he’s the only here. Not even Bobby is in yet. Buck disappears into the locker room, throws on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and makes his way to the weights. He wants to work out for as long as he can before everyone else comes in and sees him. 

If Buck is being honest, he’ll admit that this is probably a little dumb; he  _ is  _ going to see everyone else in an hour or so. They’re going to see him, and they’re going to have questions that Buck doesn’t want to try to answer. 

Buck just wants to work. He and Maddie don’t leave until Friday morning. Buck just wants to work the rest of the week with as few issues as possible. 

Buck is 20 minutes into his workout when he hears someone approaching him from behind.

“ _ Buck _ ?” It’s Eddie, his voice stern. “What are you doing here?”

Buck puts the weights down and catches his breath. He pretends like he’s not using the time to get himself together before facing Eddie. 

“Working out,” Buck answers. He turns around, and he forces himself not to flinch when he sees the stunned look on Eddie’s face. “Figured I should get a workout in before my shift starts.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “What shift?” he demands in an agitated voice. “You don’t  _ have  _ a shift today. Or at least you shouldn’t. Did Bobby tell you that you have to come in today--”

“Bobby didn’t say anything, okay?” Buck says in a rush. “I didn’t even ask him about time off.”

“Because you don’t  _ have  _ to,” Eddie retorts. “Time off is a given in certain circumstances, Buck.” 

“I  _ want  _ to work today,” Buck states. “I want to be  _ here,  _ alright?” 

Eddie sighs and walks closer to Buck. He looks at Buck with so much kindness in his eyes that it makes Buck feel flustered.

“Buck, I think you should go home. At least for today.” 

Buck grits his teeth and takes a step back. He can’t deal with the warmth radiating off of his best friend.

“What am I supposed to do at home, Eddie?” Buck asks in a tight, hushed voice. “Just sit there and stare at the walls? How does that help?” 

“Why don’t you spend the day with Maddie? I’m sure you guys need to spend time together.”

“Maddie’s not going to be at home, either.” Because Buck knows his sister. “She’ll be at work today, too.” 

Eddie opens his mouth like he’s about to argue or elaborate, but then he closes it again. He moves even closer to Buck, and this time Buck can’t find it in himself to move away.

“I’m just worried about you, Buck,” Eddie says softly. “I can’t help being worried about you.” 

Buck lets Eddie’s voice sink into his mind.  _ Soothing _ , Buck thinks. Eddie’s quiet voice is soothing. It always has been. 

Buck has that feeling again; that he can just lean all the way into Eddie, wrap his arms around his body and breathe in Eddie’s scent. That he can just lose himself in Eddie Diaz, and he would be just fine. 

(Buck can’t blame his father’s death for that feeling, though. He’s felt this way for a  _ while _ , much longer than he’d ever want to admit. It’s just another feeling that Buck can’t sort out.) 

“I know,” Buck acknowledges. “And thank you. For caring.”

Eddie blinks and tilts his head at Buck, looking as if he’s surprised to hear Buck say that. Before Eddie can say anything else, Chimney and Hen stroll in, already deep in an intense conversation. Both of their faces fall when they see Buck, and Buck can tell by the way Chimney’s nostrils flare that he was right about Maddie going to work. 

“Buck, honey, what are you doing here?” Hen asks in an affectionate, measured voice. Like she’s talking to frightened child. 

Buck feels himself sink. His shoulders slump, his chest deflates. He feels tired, all of a sudden. Buck’s day just started, and he’s already tired. And he doesn’t feel like explaining himself again. 

So, Buck walks around his friends and goes into the bathroom. He washes up and then he slinks into the locker room before anyone else can stop him. He’s not going to breakfast. He’d rather not be there to see the look on Bobby’s face. 

Buck gets dressed and then he hides in there until the siren goes off and assures him that he has a job to do. Then he suits up and pretends to not feel Bobby’s eyes burning into him as he crawls into the truck. 


	3. Chapter 3

This is awkward. This is so fucking awkward. 

It’s so fucking awkward that it almost makes Buck wish he  _ had  _ stayed at home. 

They’re on the way to some medical call at the zoo, and the ride is the most uncomfortable ride Buck’s ever taken. It’s like all of the air has been sucked out the truck, and everyone’s sitting there holding their breath. 

Hen and Chimney keep trying to not look at Buck. They’re super obvious about averting their eyes whenever Buck looks in their direction, look at everything  _ but  _ Buck. Bobby is the opposite; he  _ stares  _ at Buck, looking at him through the rear view mirror. Buck looks up and sees Bobby’s eyes moving through confusion, frustration, worry,  _ pity.  _

Buck watches back as much as he can. He doesn’t want Bobby to see him looking down at the floor. He doesn’t want Bobby to see how scared Buck is about the inevitable  _ conversation  _ they have to have. 

And then there’s Eddie, sitting next to Buck. Not looking at all, but his side is pressed against Buck’s. Eddie feels hot to Buck’s touch; even his clothed leg feels like it’ll burn Buck. Every so often, Eddie’s hand twitches, and his fingers brush against the side of Buck’s hand. And it makes Buck feel stressed for a whole other reason. 

Buck’s ready for this day to be over. He’s ready for this whole week to be over. 

The call is simple enough; some poor woman leaned too far over a railing and discovered that she is allergic to peacock feathers. Hen and Chimney soothe the hives on the woman’s hands, Bobby tries to get answers out of the zoo’s director, and Eddie and Buck end up having to check out the rest of the family. At one point, a 3-year-old girl grabs Buck’s hand and refuses to let go.

“That big bird made my auntie sick, mister,” she hisses, her tiny face contorting with suspicion and anger as she squeezes Buck’s hand. “I don’t  _ like it. _ ” 

It takes the girl’s mother a really long time to convince her that  _ no _ , sweetheart, you can’t follow the nice man into the fire truck. He has to go to work and help other people, too. 

“But he’ll save us from the  _ bird! _ ” the little girl protests as her mother takes her away. 

And Buck smiles widely and waves goodbye to the little girl, and he doesn’t focus on the way his heart breaks as he watches them drive away. He hopes that the little girl’s mother is sweet to her; that she cheers her up with ice cream or a toy or whatever she needs. 

“Guys, let’s head out,” Bobby says, interrupting Buck’s thought. “Got another call about 10 minutes away from here. 4-car crash, several injuries reported.” 

Buck sighs and gets back into the truck. It sounds like they have a busy day ahead. 

That’s a good thing, Buck thinks. It’s good that he’ll be busy. It’ll keep his mind from straying. 

##

Edward always had very high aspirations for his children. 

When Madison was younger and started expressing an interest in science, Edward imagined her becoming a doctor. She seemed to be good with her brother, so Edward thought she would make an excellent pediatrician. Edward could picture her office; mahogany desks, dark brown, leather chairs, copies of her degrees on the wall, pictures of her husband and her own children on the desk. 

Edward always imagined that Evan would be a military man like himself. He thought that Evan would do well in the Navy. He could see Evan rising quickly through the ranks. The Navy would be good for Evan; it would help him learn some discipline and refine his leadership skills. 

Edward always urged both of his kids to do well in school, to never fall behind on their work, and to never act out--never  _ embarrass  _ him--in class. 

But, eventually, both of his kids disappointed him. 

Edward never understood why Madison settled for nursing. Dragging herself up and down emergency room hallways, wearing rumbled scrubs and scuffed white Keds that hurt her feet. She made far less money for much more labor, and that all could’ve been avoided if she’d done what Edward told her and go to medical school. But if Madison wanted to throw her life away, then fine. She’d eventually come to admit that Edward was right. 

Evan was even more of a disappointment. He got through high school by the skin of his teeth, just barely making B’s and C’s in most of his classes. He walked around with his head hung low, and his shoulders bunched up around his ears. And when it came time for Evan to join the Navy, he failed! He had passed every physical exam only to let his emotions get in the way. 

Evan had always been far too emotional for Edward’s liking. No man should  _ ever _ cry the way that boy cries! Evan’s failure only confirmed what Edward feared about his son; what Evan’s classmates, their neighbors, even some of Edward’s co-workers had inferred about his son. It always like every lesson Edward had ever tried to teach had been wasted on his son; like Evan blocked Edward out, trying to keep him at a distance at all times. As if Evan purposefully lived his life to spite Edward. 

Evan embarrassed Edward the most. He always had. More than likely, he always would. 

##

“Buck. A word, please.”

Bobby’s voice stops Buck in his tracks. 

Damn it. Buck thought he could run into the locker room before Bobby spotted him. They’re just now getting back to the firehouse because they’ve had back-to-back calls all day. Buck’s shift ends in like 10 minutes, and he really doesn’t feel like getting yelled at by Bobby. 

But Buck also knows that he can’t escape it. So he turns around and walks to where Bobby’s standing. 

“Yes sir?”

To Buck’s surprise, Bobby doesn’t yell. He barely raises his voice above a whisper.

“Buck, the  _ only  _ reason I did not send you home today is because I didn’t have the time,” Bobby says firmly. “But you should not be here right now.” 

Buck takes a deep breath. He can feel himself starting to feel annoyed and frazzled.

“Did I mess up today?” Buck asks. “On any of our calls--did I do something wrong?”

Bobby immediately senses the direction Buck is trying to take.

“No, but that’s not the point,” Bobby asserts. “The point is that there is no way you are in the mental or emotional state to be at work today. Especially not with the line of work you’re in.” 

Buck grits his teeth as he looks at Bobby. The look in Bobby’s eyes is making him antsy.  _ Trouble _ , Buck thinks.  _ I’m in trouble again.  _

“You have no reason to send me home,” Buck says tightly. .

“No reason? Buck, you had a death in your immediate family--”

“And I’m  _ fine _ ! I’m okay!”

Except--Buck shouts those words, and Bobby looks at Buck with his eyebrows raised. And when Buck glances over Bobby’s shoulder, he sees Eddie watching them. 

Buck wants to punch a hole in the wall, he’s so fucking frustrated with himself. 

“Buck, I am  _ worried  _ about you,” Bobby says gravely.

“You don’t want me around because you’re worried about me?” Buck retorts. “Huh, doesn’t  _ that  _ sound familiar? We’re going to do  _ this  _ again?” 

“You are not helping your argument here. You know that, right?” 

The tone of Bobby’s voice chills Buck. He’s heard it a thousand times: during his first few months with the 118, during arguments with Alli in those last couple of months. When he broke the news that he wasn’t going to be a Navy Seal. When he’d failed  _ another  _ test. 

Buck suddenly feels small and even more exhausted. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck says quietly. “I don’t mean to get out of hand. But I just  _ really  _ don’t need to be sitting around at home. Can I please just work this week? It’s only two more days.”

Bobby gives Buck an evaluative stare. Buck can see Bobby shuffling through his options, each one worse than the last. He can see Bobby regretting the decision to start this conversation. Or, maybe Bobby's regretting letting Buck back into the firehouse _at all._

Then Bobby sighs and rubs his eyes.

“You can work  _ tomorrow _ . You’ll be off on Thursday,” Bobby says. “And you come back in on Tuesday.” 

“Thank you,” Buck says, and he doesn’t try to hide his relief. “Thank you so much, Bobby.” 

“But, Buck--the  _ second  _ I feel like you need to go home, you’re going home. No arguments. You understand?” 

Buck’s face flushes, but he nods. 

“Yes sir. I understand.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Edward Buckley began to suspect that there was something  _ off  _ about his son Evan on Evan’s 12th birthday. 

They had a big backyard party for Evan’s birthday. All of Evan’s classmates showed up to play games, eat cake and celebrate Evan’s day. Evan should’ve been happy, but he never was; Evan was always pathetic-looking, his eyes cast downward, anxiety printed all over his face. Edward could never get that boy to stand upright and be confident, and it was so frustrating. 

At one point during the party, Edward lost sight of Evan. Edward looked around the backyard and didn’t see him at all. How could the boy have disappeared from his own birthday party? Edward went into the house and heard Evan’s voice. 

Edward walked further into the house and saw Evan sitting on the bottom of the stairs with one of his classmates, a 13-year-old Black boy named James. Edward knew James and his parents well because James’s dad owned a car dealership not far from Edward’s body shop. James was a straight A student who never got into any trouble, so Edward didn’t mind Evan being friends with him. 

But as Edward approached them, he noticed just how  _ closely  _ they were sitting; their arms were touching, and they were nearly in each other’s face. Evan had this huge grin on his face, bigger than Edward had ever seen before. Evan’s face had a pink tint to it, and Edward knew he had seen enough.

“Evan!” Edward called.

Evan stood right up, eyes wide with guilt. Both boys looked at Edward as if he’d caught them doing something  _ wrong.  _

“Go back outside,” Edward ordered. “Don’t be rude to the  _ rest  _ of your guests.” 

Evan nodded and scurried past Edward, refusing to look him in the eye. James, however, watched Edward closely as he went. There was a darkness in his eyes as his gaze locked onto Edward. Edward watched him back, more than a little shocked at the audacity of this child. 

Edward followed them outside, his frustration building more and more. They were going to have to have a  _ serious  _ conversation. 

##

“So, how’d you sneak into  _ your  _ job today?” 

Buck flops down onto his bed as he listens to Maddie speak. Maddie’s voice comes out flat, with the driest humor Buck’s ever heard. Buck doesn’t have to see Maddie to know what she looks like now; stretched out on her couch, her eyes low, a smirk on her face and a wine glass dangling from her hand. 

Buck’s voice trembles as he laughs. He remembers the shock on Hen’s face, and he presses his phone to his ear with too much force.

“Oh, you know, I just showed up and everyone looked at me like I had a disease.” Humiliation drips off of each word, and Buck tries to swallow the feeling. “What about you?”

Maddie snorts and Buck can the small, tinny sound of a glass being placed onto the table.

“Well, I called my supervisor to let her know what was going on. And before I could finish getting the words out, she told me she’d fired me if I tried to show up at all this week.” 

“ _ Wow. _ ”

“Yep. She meant it, too.”

Buck thinks about the look on Bobby’s face--the thunder building in Bobby’s voice--and he flinches. 

“But, of course, before  _ that _ ,” Maddie continues, “Chim and I kinda got into it about me going to work.”

“I--I could tell. Chimney didn’t look too happy when I saw him. Eddie and I kinda argued, too . . .”

Buck’s voice trails off. He sees Eddie’s eyes, wide, and sad and fixed on Buck’s face.

“I appreciate the concern, but they just don’t understand . . .” Maddie’s saying, but her voice sounds foggy as Buck tries to sift through the images of his friends eyes. It’s the last image that Buck needs to focus on right now. 

“Are our jobs really just allowed to kick us out the way they do?” Buck eventually mumbles. “Do we not have rights anymore or something?” 

“Honestly, at this point, they probably can. Especially with  _ us two _ ,” Maddie says, her voice barely audible. “It’s not like either of us have had the best behavior at work in the past few months.”

The words feel like needles going to Buck’s skin. Because she’s right--with the lawsuit, and the stalking, and the way they’ve complicated everyone’s lives. The Buckley siblings are a force to be reckoned with--in all the wrong ways.

Buck swallows. “I don’t know what they expect us to  _ do _ , Maddie.”

“Probably . . . to be normal humans,” Maddie slowly concludes. 

“But that’s not--” Buck chokes on the rest of the words. They feel like a cop-out, like a bad excuse. 

But, it’s  _ not,  _ it’s really not. Not with what they’ve been through. It’s not an excuse, is it? 

Maddie hears what he doesn’t say, and she sighs heavily.

“It’s not,” Maddie says. “At least we know that, though. We’re  _ aware _ . That’s more than most, I think.” 

Buck bites the inside of his cheek. She’s giving him too much credit, he thinks. 

Buck’s phone suddenly starts beeping; he’s got another call coming through. He pulls back to look at the phone.  _ Eddie.  _

“Eddie’s calling me,” Buck stammers, to Maddie and himself.

“Answer it,” Maddie urges. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay.” 

Buck manages to hang up with Maddie, but he just stares at his phone for a second. It’s just a damn  _ phone call _ . And it’s with Eddie; Buck talks to Eddie almost every day. 

But today’s  _ different _ , and Buck knows that. 

It takes an embarrassing amount of courage to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie’s voice is quiet and warm. “How you doing? For real--how you doing?”

“Um . . .” Buck doesn’t even know how to be for real right now. 

“I’m making it,” Buck eventually answers. “I feel . . . weird. But I’m making it.”

“I hear you. I get that,” Eddie says with a sigh. Then, he stammers, “I mean, I didn’t lose my  _ father _ , but--”

“You lost someone,” Buck finishes softly. Buck remembers the months after Eddie lost Shannon; the vacant look in Eddie’s eyes, Christopher’s nightmare, the anger that gripped Eddie. “So, you get it.” 

“Yeah, I get it.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Buck sinks into his bed, and he closes his eyes as the moment washes over him. There’s no such thing as an awkward silence with them, Buck’s realized.

Eddie interrupts the silence anyway. 

“But I gotta say, Buck. I did  _ not  _ expect to see you today.” 

“Yeah, I gathered that,” Buck says wryly. “Your, uh, line of questioning kinda helped me see that.”

“I  _ was _ kind of hassling you,” Eddie says, sounding contrite. “I’m not trying to run your life or tell you how to feel. I just don’t want to you trying to  _ force  _ yourself to feel better or anything like that.” 

Buck scoffs at the idea. Buck would have to sort through his actual feelings before he could force himself to feel something different. That sounds daunting enough. 

“I’m not--I’m not doing anything like that. I promise. I don’t even know if I could.” 

Eddie's quiet for a second too long before he speaks again. 

“Okay, I’ll believe you.” 

Buck raises an eyebrow at the tone of Eddie’s voice. He can hear the faintest hint of disbelief in Eddie’s voice--the unspoken  _ for now _ \--but it’s late, and he’d rather leave well enough alone. 

“There’s also . . .” Eddie’s careful as he continues “ . . . something you said about your dad not being like mine or Bobby’s . . .” 

Buck’s stomach drops and he slams his eyes shut. He’s so fucking stupid. 

“I shouldn’t have said that today,” Buck says hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything--”

“You didn’t! You didn’t offend me at all! It’s just . . . it made me realize that you’ve never told me about your dad. I can’t remember you saying anything about him at all, actually.” 

Buck’s chest feels tight, like someone’s pressing their hand down on it, like their fingers are splayed out on either side of his neck. He has that electric feeling in his body again, but this time is spreading through his stomach. 

“I . . .” 

Fuck, where does he even start? How does he even start? 

“I didn’t really get along with my dad,” Buck mutters. He can start here. “We . . . I hadn’t spoken to him in a long time. We had a falling out.”

Impossibly, Eddie’s voice goes even more gentle. “Can I ask what happened?”

Buck takes a breath. He feels himself steadying. Buck can go on this path, he can manage  _ this. _ Eddie doesn’t need to know the worst of it. 

“We got into a bad argument about me not being a Navy Seal. But even before that, we just . . . we never saw eye-to-eye. On anything. So, I hadn’t spoken to him in a while.” 

Buck tries to say it with as casual of a tone as he can muster. He tries to stifle the rising anxiety and frustration and the flickers of some old, bitter emotion he can’t quite name. But Buck still hears Eddie breathe in sharply, as if he’d just watched Buck hurt himself. 

“I’m sorry, Buck,” Eddie says, and he truly does sound sorry. “I really am.” 

Buck feels a flash of something hot--something like frustration or misplaced annoyance. Why is  _ Eddie  _ apologizing? Who told Eddie that it was his job to apologize for Buck’s father, when Buck’s father never even thought about apologizing, not  _ once  _ in his life? 

Buck pictures his father now: Edward’s shocked face, surrounded by disheveled blond hair. Bright blue eyes staring daggers into Buck’s face. 

“It happens,” Buck mumbles in a detached tone. “It is what it is.”

Eddie hesitates--Buck hears another sharp intake of breath, like Eddie’s just barely stopping himself from saying whatever is at the tip of his tongue. 

“Well, like I said earlier,” Eddie says, “you can call me for anything, whatever you need me to do for you. At any time.” 

“I know.” 

(Buck  _ does  _ know that: Eddie’s made it clear over these last few months. And that’s part of why Buck’s heart jumps around wildly at Eddie’s words, why the very thought of Eddie makes Buck feel overwhelmed and flustered and utterly doomed.)

“Is there anything I can do for you now? I mean, I know it’s late now, and we’re on the phone, but if there’s something I can do that could make tomorrow easier . . . ?” 

_ Nothing I can say aloud _ . The thought sounds kind of foreign to Buck now; maybe it’s an inappropriate joke Buck 1.0 would’ve made. But, shamefully, it’s also very honest. 

But then, Buck has another thought, something to distract both of them. 

“You can tell me about  _ your  _ dad. If you want to, I mean.” 

Eddie chortles. 

“ _ My  _ dad?” Fondness creeps into Eddie’s voice, and Buck wants to lean into the sound. 

“Yeah! I never got to meet him.”

Buck can hear the eye roll as Eddie keeps talking.

“My dad spent my whole life pretending to be some strict hard ass, only to cry for  _ hours  _ the day Christopher was born. He’s been a sap ever since.”

Buck smiles at the thought. “I think Christopher can make anyone cry.” 

“You’re right about that,” Eddie says with another small laugh. “I learned that one time when we took him to El Paso when he was a baby. But that’s a long story.”

Buck turns over onto his side, gripping his phone as if he’ll keep him safe.

“And I wanna hear every bit of it. So talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to keep updating this every few days until it's done. But, I'm not gonna lie, this is a little hard to write, so I'm using a lot of brain power to get through it. 
> 
> There's a part of this chapter that I'm not entirely sure about, but I don't think I can "fix it" anymore, so I'm just gonna have to hope for the best.


	5. Chapter 5

A loud yawn escapes Buck’s mouth as he ambles into the firehouse the next morning.

He’s arriving later than he did yesterday; he got up slower this morning, the previous day clinging to his body as he tried to get out of bed. Buck stayed up too late. 

And, by extension, so did Eddie. 

“Long night?” Buck whips around at the sound of Chimney’s voice. Chimney’s still watching him with that wary expression from yesterday. 

Buck gives Chimney a wan smile. 

“Um, yeah. I didn’t get much sleep,” he says apologetically. 

Chimney nods, but his expression doesn’t soften at all. He looks at Buck as if he’s trying to see past Buck’s eyes.

“How are you doing? And don’t say ‘fine’ if you’re not fine,” Chimney demands. “Be honest.” 

Buck freezes for a hair of a second, half of smile on his face. It’s the _ demand _for honesty that trips him up; it’s not as if either of them have the time for Buck’s honesty. Buck wouldn’t have time to pick through all of the pieces, and Chimney wouldn't have the time to listen. 

So, Buck says nothing. He just shrugs, trying to keep the uneasiness from creeping onto his face. 

Chimney frowns at Buck, but he nods. 

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

Buck wants to ask _ what _makes sense to Chimney--what Chimney could’ve seen in such a minute movement. But before he can, Chimney suddenly lurches forward, unsteady on his feet. They both turn around to see that Eddie has run directly into Chimney’s back.

“Sorry, Chim,” Eddie mumbles. “I didn’t see you there.” 

Chimney stares at Eddie incredulously and gestures towards his own body.

“You didn’t see a whole _ me _standing here? What am I, invisible?” 

Eddie shrugs, and the smile he gives Chimney can be safely described as “goofy.” Buck sees that Eddie has his phone in his hand, but Buck takes one look at Eddie’s narrow, sleepy eyes and knows what’s actually distracting him. 

“My bad,” Eddie says. “I’ll try to pay more attention.”

Chimney studies Eddie’s eyes, then he glances at Buck so quickly that Buck nearly thinks that he imagined it. 

“_ Oh _, okay,” Chimney mutters, and, once again, he’s seeing something that Buck hadn’t shown him.

This time, Eddie also peers at Chimney curiously. 

“What’s that mean?” Eddie asks. 

“It means I’m glad he’s actually _ talking _ to someone,” Chimney says, and he levels Buck with an expectant look before walking off. 

Buck watches after Chimney, more than a little disoriented. Eddie nudges Buck’s arm, and Buck finds himself leaning close to Eddie. Eddie doesn’t say anything; his lips just curve into a small smile. 

Buck could kiss Eddie. He _ wants _to kiss Eddie. Buck feels foggy, and his brain is full of static, but the desire to kiss Eddie manages to rise above everything else. Buck knows he must be staring, but Eddie’s face hasn’t changed, and he hasn’t moved away, and Buck is just barely stopping himself from doing something that will ruin his life. 

“Everything good here?” 

Bobby’s voice sends a shock to Buck’s heart. Buck goes rigid, standing straighter as he meets Bobby’s eyes. He’s almost surprised to see softness there, to see the way Bobby frowns at the tension in Buck’s body.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re good.” 

Bobby glances at Eddie, and Buck doesn’t even want to risk looking at Eddie, too. Bobby must be satisfied by whatever he sees in Eddie’s face, because he nods and gives Buck a small smile.

“Alright, then. See you guys at breakfast.” 

Bobby walks away, heading upstairs towards the station kitchen. When Bobby’s gone, Buck sighs so heavily that it feels like he’s pushed out every bit of air in his body. He _ needs _to get his shit together fast. 

Eddie looks at Buck, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to; Buck can see the question as Eddie peers into his face. 

“I’m good,” Buck mouths. 

Eddie nods, and he walks into the locker room. Haltingly, Buck follows. 

##

Edward and Evan Buckley had vastly different perspectives on the day Evan announced that he wanted to leave the country. 

Evan swore up and down that it was his opportunity to be a man and be on his own--just like Edward’s always telling him to. Evan kept trying to convince them; he tried obscuring the absolute inanity of the idea by saying that he could “broaden his horizons,” and that he could learn so much about the world and how to deal with people if he leaves. 

But Edward saw it for what it was: Evan wanted to put as much distance between himself and his family as possible. He wanted to abdicate his responsibility to them by traipsing around whatever third world countries he can find. As far as Edward could see, Evan wanted to run off and do whatever _ he _wanted, no matter how irresponsible, sophomoric or disgusting it is. 

Patricia had hemmed and hawed, effectively taking Evan’s side by not deliberately discouraging his foolish ideas. Madison, surprisingly, tried to talk sense into her brother, going on and on about the danger, about Evan’s inexperience with taking care of himself, about the fact that if he goes that far away none of them will be able to come rescue him. Madison couldn’t keep from crying, and, for once, Edward was grateful for how emotional his daughter could be; her crying made Evan freeze, and Edward could see the gears shifting in his son’s head, his mind working away from such a foolish idea. 

Evan wasn’t going. That was the final decision. 

At least, Edward _ thought _it was. 

Evan had other ideas. Ideas like buying a bus ticket to Philadelphia so that he can fly from there to Miami to wherever the hell he thought he was going to go. 

Ideas like trying to leave the house without saying a word to them, only to get caught because Patricia just so happened to wake up two hours earlier than she normally did, wandering to the kitchen for a glass of water. 

And when Edward got up and tried to talk some sense into his idiot of a son--when he grabbed him and tried to bring him back inside to sit down and _ listen _for once--Evan had the idea to punch Edward in the face. 

And they fought--they fought and fought and fought like violent strangers in the street, like they could break each other’s bones and spill each other’s blood, and never worry about seeing each again in life. 

They wouldn’t. Edward _ knew _they wouldn’t, not after that. And he was just fine with that idea.

##

The day is almost over. 

Buck feels the hours of the day beginning to settle into his bones as they ride to what is probably their last call of the day. They’ve had small, annoying calls all day: an allergic reaction caused by the fake jewelry a man bought for his mistress, a compost fire that stunk up an entire apartment complex, a burn to some college student’s face because he was trying to emulate some stupid challenge he saw on Instagram. All irritating little calls that have tap danced on Buck’s already fraught nerves. 

Buck’s off tomorrow. That thought has also loomed in this head all day, wearing him down little by little. Buck feels stretched thin, pulled too tight. And in a way, he’s ready for tomorrow and then Friday and even Saturday if it means that his body can loosen again. 

They’re on their way to a car accident call. Some kid, no older than 14, took his dad’s car for a joy ride and crashed into a pole. There’s a part of Buck that’s very curious about the type of teenager that would do something so brazen in the middle of the day. 

Buck immediately sees the car as they pull up to the scene: a slick blue Dodge Charger, its front end mangled, gray-tinted smoke pouring from its now open hood. The light pole is on top of the car, laying right down the middle of the windshield and roof. 

And when Buck looks closer, he sees a thin, light brown arm waving out of the car’s driver side window.

Buck’s stomach drops.

“Shit, the kid’s trapped!” Chimney nearly shouts. “Why the hell wouldn’t dispatch mention that?!” 

The truck’s barely stopped before they’re all rushing out.

“Hen, Chim, assess the kid as best as you can!” Bobby yells. “Eddie, you grab the jaws! Buck, grab a jack hammer!”

Buck immediately does what he’s told, pulling a jack hammer from one of the back compartments of the truck. He feels anxious and jittery, much more than he normally does. Buck’s done so many bad car accidents before, but this one . . . it’s a _ kid. _And he’s trapped and hurt and probably scared out of his mind. 

Buck rushes over to the wrecked Charger, Eddie following close behind him. Hen and Chimney both turn to face them, and Buck can see that they’re both trying their hardest to keep their composure. 

The kid stares up at all of them with wide, terrified eyes. His light brown face has turned pale, and there’s blood flowing freely from a gash above his left eyebrow, staining his dark green jacket. The kid is sitting statute still, and, for a second there, Buck thinks that he’s not breathing. But when Buck looks closer, he can see the kid’s chest moving unevenly as the kid pushes out ragged breaths. He’s crying. 

“This is RJ,” Hen says, keeping her voice calm and steady. “From what we can tell, he’s got an open head injury, a lot of contusions, and his leg is stuck. He’s breathing a little abnormally, too.”

Buck looks through the window to try to check out at RJ’s leg. It’s definitely broken; RJ must’ve been trying to slam on the brakes when he ran into the pole. It looks like small bits of glass from the drivers side window and broken windshield have lodged themselves into RJ’s leg. It’s a bloody mess, but the amount of blood lets Buck know that there’s no damage to the femoral artery. 

“RJ,” Hen says firmly, “Eddie here is going to pry open the door, and then Buck is going use the jackhammer to get your leg free. Okay?”

RJ nods. He shoots a look at Buck, and Buck makes sure to smile at him. RJ’s face softens, but the tears keep pouring down his face.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” RJ sputters tearfully. 

Eddie attaches the jaws of life to the door, holding it steady as the device begins to fold the driver’s side door. The door crumbles even more, and soon Eddie is able to give a good tug and pull the door open. 

Buck immediately moves in, carefully positioning the jack hammer just above the spot where RJ’s leg is trapped.

“This is going to be scary,” Buck warns, “and you’re going to feel pressure on your leg. But we’re going to get you out. You hear me, RJ?” 

RJ nods and tries to smile. But he just slams his eyes shut and swallows hard.

“I’m going to die,” he says, his voice cracking. He sounds so certain that it sends Buck into a panic. 

“_ No _, you’re not,” Buck says forcefully. “We’re going to get you out of this, and then you’re going to get you to the hospital. We’re not going to let you die.” 

RJ shakes his head wildly. 

“N-no! I mean . . . my dad--if you get me out, he’s going to kill me. He already _ hates _me. This is just gonna make it worse.”

Buck feels a pang in his chest. He shoots a glance at Eddie to find Eddie looking right back at him. There’s something very _ wrong _in this moment, and Buck’s suddenly dying to parse it out. He wants to ask RJ a thousand and one questions so they can figure out what’s happening here. 

Chimney re-grounds Buck with a simple sentence.

“Buck’s gonna get to work getting you loose, okay? Then my partner Hen and I are going to get you patched up.” 

That’s Buck’s cue. He turns the jack hammer on, and watches as the damaged front end caves inward, moving away from RJ’s leg. The noise is deafening, and Buck can almost feel the terror pouring out of RJ. It only takes seconds to get RJ’s leg free, but they feel like the longest seconds of Buck’s life as he catches the kid cringe and struggle to hold back sobs. 

When RJ’s leg is free, Eddie and Chimney move in closer, stationing themselves at either end of RJ’s body. Bobby’s arrived with a stretcher, and Buck and Hen move over to give Bobby enough room to position the stretcher on the ground. 

“Okay, we’re gonna lay you down and stabilize you now,” Chimney says. 

“O-okay.” 

Eddie and Chimney very gently lay RJ on the stretcher. Chimney starts working on RJ’s leg while Hen tends to the wound on his head. Suddenly, RJ’s dark brown eyes go wide and he stares at the sky. He starts hyperventilating, and his chest moves so hard that it looks painful. 

“Breathing’s getting real erratic,” Eddie mutters. Then, he speaks to RJ in loud, deliberate voice: “RJ? Can you tell me what’s happening?”

“My heart’s beating too fast!” RJ cries. 

“Does it hurt?” Eddie presses. “Are you feeling pain in your chest?”

“No, no! It’s just--going too fast! It’s going too fast, and it’s making it hard to breathe!” RJ closes his eyes again, and tears escape from under them. “My dad . . . My dad . . .”

_ His dad. _

“Panic attack,” Buck says, and he’s only a little surprised to hear his words echoed in Bobby’s voice. 

Buck crouches down closer to RJ. Buck reaches for RJ’s hand, and RJ grabs Buck’s hand so tightly that Buck briefly wonders if he should be worried about it breaking. 

“Don’t think about your dad right now, okay?” Buck says as calmly as he can. “Focus on your breathing.” 

Buck glances up to Chimney and Bobby, who both nod vigorously. Buck looks back down at RJ and squeezes his hand. 

“Breathe in slow, hold it, and then let it out.” 

RJ locks eyes with Buck and follows his instructions; he takes in deep, shuddery breaths, holds them, and exhales. 

“You’re doing good! Keep going, just like that!” Buck urges. 

RJ keeps following the pattern, and he starts to calm. His chest rises and falls more slowly, and his breathing evens out. RJ’s body deflates, as if anxiety is slipping out of his body with every breath. Eventually, he takes on last, long breath and lays his head back down on the stretcher. 

“How’re you feeling, RJ?” Bobby asks in a soft voice.

“ . . . Better,” RJ mutters. “My leg’s hurting pretty bad, though.” 

“I imagine so,” Bobby says sympathetically. “Well, we’re gonna get you to the hospital.” 

Buck, Eddie and Bobby move back as Hen and Chimney lift the stretcher and rolls RJ to the ambulance. As they start to leave the scene, Buck sees notices two things he hadn’t noticed before. 

The first is Athena; she’s with three other officers, and they’re standing around a small crowd of people who have gathered in front of a house on the corner. 

While the three officers are trying to wrangle gawking onlookers, Athena’s focused on one man in particular. He’s a hulking white man; tall, bald, and muscular, in dark sweatpants and a baggy blue sweater with a giant American flag on it. His face is bright red and contorted with rage as he gesticulates wildly, and Athena looks like she might snap on him at any second. 

_ That’s _RJ’s dad. 

And right as that realization is hitting him, Buck notices the second thing, floating near the corner of his eye. 

It’s the back windshield of the car; it’s cracked. 

Buck finds himself turning around and walking back to the car, transfixed by the cracked back windshield. He leans in close, studying the damage. 

It probably shouldn’t be unusual, right? This is a car wreck, after all. But, then again, the rest of the car’s rear end is entact, no dents or scratches. Not even the back passenger windows are damaged. But the back windshield has a giant crack right in the middle, a deep gash in the center with tendrils spreading outwards. 

Like someone threw something into it. 

Buck blinks, and his stomach somehow sinks even lower. He walks to the front of the car and finds the switch to pop the trunk of the car. That anxiety has returned, and it’s building underneath Buck’s skin as he walks to the open trunk. 

“Buck . . . ?” Eddie’s calling out to him, concern in his voice. 

There’s two bags in the trunk: two brown, worn-looking duffel bags that have been stuffed to capacity. Next to those bags, there’s a plastic bag filled with food. Microwavable cups of mac n’ cheese, instant noodles, chips, bottles of Gatorade and Red Bull. 

He’s running away. He _ was _ running away--until he crashed. 

Buck’s feet carry him over to Athena before his mind can stop them. Waves of sadness and hurt and _ anger _keep washing over Buck, and by the time he’s standing behind Athena, his heart is trying to escape from his chest. 

“Mr. Williams, it’s going to be much harder to get to the bottom of this if you don’t cooperate with me,” Athena’s voice has a razor sharp edge to it, and if this Mr. Williams had any sense, he’d fall back.

But he doesn’t. He only looks more indignant and enraged as he yells. 

“What’s there to ‘get to the bottom of’? My jackass of a son _ stole my fucking car _!”

“Okay, sir,” Athena continues, thunder in her voice. “You saw him driving away in your car, you threw a piece of a brick into the back windshield . . .”

_ That son of a bitch. _

“ . . . and he crashed into the pole.”

“Why are you saying it like _ I _ did something wrong?” Mr. Williams demands. “ _ He _ stole _ my _ car! He’s acting like a fucking criminal, but _ I’m _the one being interrogated on my own front lawn?!”

Athena puts both hands on her hips and glares at him. “Sir, your son is 14 years old. I’m trying to figure out what would make a 14-year-old take his father’s car in broad daylight.” 

“How should I know?! Ask him!” Mr. Williams throws his arms up wildly. His voice is laced with venom as he continues, “Or better yet, ask his mother whenever you find her. She’s the one that’s fucked him up so badly. I’ve been trying to straighten him out for _ years _, but he’s so fucking stupid and hopeless--” 

“Where do you think he might’ve been going?”

The question is out of Buck’s mouth before he knows. Mr. Williams dumbly blinks at him, and Athena whips around to stare at him with a startled expression on her face. 

“What?” Mr. Williams asks, narrowing his eyes at Buck.

“I said, where do you think he was going?” Buck presses. “Because, from what I can tell, he was really desperate to go _ somewhere. _” 

Buck can feel someone approaching from behind, but all he can focus on is the look on this man’s face and the way it makes Buck feel like all of his blood is rushing to his head. 

“I don’t know,” Mr. Williams answers hostilely. “Again, that’s something you need to ask _ him. _Do some investigating and see who the hell he’s trying to run off with!” 

“_ He’s _ hurt,” Buck’s voice shakes. “He’s got a broken leg, cuts all over him, and he probably has a head injury, too. Does _ that _ matter to you, or are you just focused on your _ car _?” 

“What? I’m supposed to be broken up just because he got a few scratches? After stealing and damaging _ my _property?” Mr. Williams shrugs. “He’ll survive. He’s going to have a lot more to worry about once I have his ass thrown in jail--”

Buck snatches Mr. Williams before his common sense can kick in.

Buck twists both of his fists in the front of Mr. Williams shirt, and he drags the struggling man closer. Mr. Williams’s eyes are wide with fear now as he stares into Buck’s face. Buck feels a rage so foreign and powerful that it blurs his vision. Buck doesn’t even recognize himself right now. 

“Your son was trying to get away from _ you! _ ” Buck screams. “Something is so wrong with _ you _ that he was willing to risk ending up homeless or going to jail or getting himself _ killed _ just to get away from you!” 

Athena grabs Buck’s arm tightly. 

“Buck, let go of him!” she commands. “Listen to me--you need to let him go!” 

Mr. Williams tries to move his face away. It only makes Buck more frustrated. 

“Athena, RJ’s _ afraid _of him!” Buck says wildly. “He’s so scared of his own dad that he did something this stupid!” 

“_ Buck! _” 

Bobby’s booming voice stops Buck’s heart. Buck finds himself gripping Mr. Williams’s shirt even tighter, out of his own spike of fear this time. Buck looks between Bobby and Athena, and the feeling of anger gives away to shame. 

“Guys, I--this man is--”

“Oh, I know, Buck,” Athena interrupts. “And, trust me, I will be dealing with this jackass in a second. But you need to let him go _ now. _”

Buck blinks at Mr. Williams. He feels like he’s falling. Like he’s been knocked out of the sky, and he’s falling down, down, down. All the way down until he smacks into the ground. 

He lets him go. 

Mr. Williams stumbles backwards, his eyes still wide as he puts distance between the two of them. Without a word, Bobby firmly puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder and steers him away from the scene and towards the truck. Buck stumbles as they walk. He suddenly feels cold all over, and he knows his face is completely drained of what little color it has. By the time they reach the truck, it’s Buck whose breathing is becoming erratic. 

_ I’m in trouble. I’m in trouble. _

When Bobby lets go of his shoulders, Buck whips around and looks him in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says plaintively. And he knows that he sounds pitiful, but he can’t help it. “Bobby, I’m so sorry, I’m--”

“Going home. _ Now. _” 

“But . . .” 

“What did we agree to yesterday, Buck? _ No arguments _ . You do not need to be here right now, especially not after _ that _.” 

Tears thicken Buck’s voice. He tries to take a breath to calm himself down, but it doesn’t work. Buck can’t calm down. All he can do is look at Bobby’s face and realize that he’s failed. 

“Bobby . . . I’m _ sorry. _I’m so sorry.”

Bobby puts his hands on Buck’s shoulders again and pulls him closer. There’s no anger in his touch; no frustration, no disappointment. 

“I know, son. I _ know _. But you’ve got to go.” 

##

Buck doesn’t say anything to the cop that drives him home. He doesn’t even look at him. He just stares out of the window, silently crying, biting the inside of his cheek like a sad little kid. 

Buck’s being rude. He’ll apologize for it later. 

Buck’s phone keeps vibrating. He doesn’t know how many times it’s rang in the past ten minutes or so. Buck should dig it out of his pocket--at least to _ see _who it is--but he can’t. He’s too fucking embarrassed. 

He’ll have to apologize for this, too. 


	6. Chapter 6

Buck’s not in his apartment a full hour when he hears three loud knocks on his door. 

“Buck? You in there? It’s me,” Eddie’s voice comes booming through the door.

Buck looks at the door from his spot on the couch, and he feels his entire body slump. 

Buck can’t do this. 

He’s so tired; he starts shaking all over when he stands up, as if his body is finally done carrying him. Buck feels like he could just pass out on the ground right this second. He doesn’t even know if he can carry on a conversation, let alone the type of conversation they’re gonna have. 

But Eddie’s at the door, impatiently knocking. And Buck knows he won’t leave. 

Buck drags himself to the door and opens it. A very agitated-looking Eddie looks at Buck with wide eyes. 

“Hey,” Buck mumbles, stepping to the side to let Eddie inside. 

He watches Eddie’s back as Eddie walks inside, focusing on the tense line of Eddie’s shoulders, the way Eddie’s back muscles move as he walks into Buck’s place. The longer Buck looks at Eddie, the more claustrophobic he feels. It’s like the walls are closing in on them both. 

“What are you doing here?” Buck asks in dazed voice. “Don’t you have almost an hour left in your shift?”

Eddie turns to face Buck with sad brown eyes and a deep frown on his face. 

“40 minutes,” Eddie responds. “But I got sent home a little early.”

Buck snorts, and walks past Eddie to sit down on the couch. He silently prays to be free of the tension in his body, to be able to _ relax _as he plops down. 

“Did you make an ass out of yourself on a call, too?” Buck asks as he sinks into the cushions. “At this rate, the whole squad’s gonna get sent home.” 

Eddie doesn’t say anything; he sighs and sits down next to Buck. He sits so close, and Buck should tell him to move over a little. He should put space between them. Instead, Buck feels himself start to calm down, his nerves finally settling into something that resembles peace. 

“I’ve been calling you, Buck, and you haven’t answered once,” Eddie says softly, looking Buck in the eye. “And, I’m not gonna lie: after the day you’ve had, I was scared when I couldn’t reach you.” 

Buck looks down at the floor. The shame and humiliation that’s been plaguing him for the past few hours intensifies. 

“I didn’t feel like talking.”

A thick silence falls over them. Buck feels Eddie’s gaze on his face. In a way, it makes him feel smaller. Buck remembers the feeling of wanting to curl up against Eddie—of wanting Eddie to hold him tightly and never let go—and he tries to suppress a shudder. 

“Hey, Buck?” Eddie says expectantly. “Do you remember that time that I had all this rage pent up inside of me that I wouldn’t talk about, and I ended up hurting some random guy in an underground fight club?”

Buck barks out a startled, humorless laugh. He looks with Eddie with an incredulous stare. 

“Are you comparing me getting in some asshole’s face to the time you nearly killed somebody?”

Eddie shrugs, and the corner of his mouth quirks upward. 

“Not exactly. But I _ am _ saying that I know how bad it can get when you bottle up everything inside of you. I know how unhealthy that is, and I know how bad it _ hurts. _”

Buck vacantly nods at his best friend. He remembers wishing that he could’ve been there for Eddie. They could’ve talked about it or something. Or, better yet, Eddie would have never started fighting in the first place. The whole thing could’ve been avoided. 

Buck shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “So, the therapy’s been working?” 

Eddie smirks at Buck’s pathetic attempt at a diversion. Eddie shifts on the couch and manages to come even closer to Buck. For a moment, Buck doesn’t breathe.

“I _ also _ know that there’s a _ lot _you need to talk about,” Eddie says, his voice kind and gentle, “And that I’m here to listen when you do. I don’t want you walking around trying to pretend like you’re not hurt.” 

Buck can feel himself starting to shut down. He shouldn’t do _ this _ with Eddie; Buck shouldn’t be this close, he shouldn’t lean so heavily on him. Buck shouldn’t reopen the old wounds just so that he can bleed all over Eddie. Buck should be stronger _ this. _ It’s something his father always said about him, when he was younger and skinner and his eyes were even wider. You should be stronger than _ this. _

But Buck’s so fucking _ tired. _Buck’s tired, and he’s already made a fool of himself at work, and he already feels like a part of himself is exposed for the world to see. Buck already feels raw—he already feels like an open wound. Buck’s not “stronger than this,” and he doesn’t have it in him to pretend that he feels otherwise.

“Eddie . . . you know when we first met, and I kept asking what your full name was? And kept trying to give you a nickname?”

Eddie furrows his brow but nods. Buck takes a deep, shaky breath. There’s no going back now.

“I was doing that because . . . your name being ‘Eddie’ is kind of awkward for me.” 

Eddie frowns and tilts his head a little. He’s clearly confused, and Buck thinks he sees insecurity in his eyes. 

“Why is that?” Eddie’s question is as soft and considerate as everything else he’s said so far. 

Buck’s eyes dart all over Eddie’s face. They’re so different, Eddie and Buck’s father. They’ve got all these similarities, but they’re so different. It’s almost hard to for Buck to comprehend. 

“It’s because . . . my dad’s name is Edward. And he’s a veteran, too,” Buck says softly. “And . . . and I fucking hated him, Eddie.”

Buck takes in the look on Eddie’s face—the mix of shock and sympathy and grief—and a voice in the back of his head begs him to stop before it’s too late. 

Buck has to ignore it. He _ has _to. 

“I hate him so much,” Buck presses forward. “I’m not even exaggerating or anything, Eddie. I _ hate _him.”

Buck falters. He feels a burning heat rising in him as he struggles to find his next words. A look of urgency flashes in Eddie’s eyes. 

“Tell me why?” It’s a command disguised as a question. 

As it turns out, it’s exactly what Buck needs. 

“That man was the worst person I ever knew. He—he used me as his punching bag. Like, his _ actual _punching bag. He once hit me in the stomach so hard that he bruised up my ribs, and then he got mad at my mom for taking me to the hospital.” 

Eddie flinches, and his nostrils flare. But he nods for Buck to continue. 

“And he used to just _ scream _ at Maddie. It was like he enjoyed making her so scared of him. And, oh my God, he cheated on my mom like it was his part-time job or something. And when he was around her, he would just be so hateful and mean to her. And there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Like—they _ needed _ help, and I could never help them because I was so fucking weak and so fucking _ scared _ of him.” 

Buck finds himself looking down at the ground now. His leg starts jumping, moving so hard that it makes the couch shake. Without a word, Eddie reaches over and puts his hand on Buck’s knee, gently squeezing it. Buck goes still under his touch, staring at the way Eddie’s hand fits on his body.

“Buck . . .” Eddie’s voice is impossibly soft. “. . . Buck, look at me.”

Hesitantly, Buck looks Eddie in the eye again. Buck can’t place the look Eddie’s giving him; it’s almost indecipherable. But it feels good. 

“You weren’t weak. You were a _ kid. _ And the person who was supposed to love and take care of you chose to do the exact opposite. None of _ that _ is your fault. There’s nothing you could’ve done—or _ not _done—to deserve any of that.”

Buck lets Eddie’s words sink into his skin. Eddie’s right—Buck _ knows _he’s right. It’s something Buck’s tried to tell himself a thousand times before, the words turning over and over in his head. 

But, still: “I don’t think I’m supposed to _ hate _ my father, Eddie. Especially since it’s been years since I even saw him. By now I should be . . . _ over it, _ or something . . .” 

Guilt bleeds through Buck’s voice as he talks. Buck has the briefest memory of Eddie telling Buck that he was _ exhausting, _ that everyone else could suck it up, _so why can’t you? _

But the two of them are very far-removed from that day in the grocery store, because Eddie shakes his head at Buck and squeezes his knee again.

“No, you don’t just ‘get over’ a fucked up childhood just because you’re an adult now or because he’s gone,” Eddie says fiercely. “You shouldn’t expect yourself to just be over it. And you don’t have to _ love _him. Not if he didn’t deserve it.”

Buck blinks at Eddie. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

Eddie shrugs, but Buck can see the simmering wrath in his eyes.

“It’s true, though,” Eddie insists. “No one who could hurt their own kid like that is entitled to love.”

Buck looks at Eddie’s eyes and thinks of Christopher. Eddie’s eyes light up when he looks at his son; there’s always a reverence in his voice when he talks about him. Eddie’s whole world is anchored to that kid. The mere idea of Christopher being hurt is enough to pull Eddie apart at the seams. 

Of course Eddie hates Buck’s father without knowing him. 

While Buck’s contemplating this, Eddie continues, the edge in his voice becoming sharper. 

“Sounds to me that he didn’t he what he had. How lucky he was to have _ you. _ You don’t owe him _ anything _, Buck. Especially not now.” 

_ How lucky he was to have you. _ The words rattle around in Buck’s mind as he stares at Eddie’s face. They sound like another language to Buck, maybe one that he’d learned _ years _ago only to slowly, but surely forget. Some of the words sound familiar, but their meaning is just beyond Buck’s grasp.

“What . . . what do you mean by that ‘Lucky to have me’?” 

Eddie gives Buck his own confused look, as if the words aren’t registering for him, either. 

“I mean that if he’d had any sense, he would’ve noticed that he had a smart, caring son who works his ass off,” Eddie smiles at Buck. “He’d realized that he had a good kid that he didn’t deserve.” 

Buck’s face heats up, and he’s blinking again. Buck wonders if he looks nearly as flustered as he feels.

“You know, the last time I saw my dad, we got into a fistfight,” Buck timidly confesses, and his face is hot for a different reason now. “I kinda messed his face up.” 

“Good,” Eddie says firmly. “That’s still better than he deserves.”

Buck lets out an incredulous laugh as he looks at the unapologetic look on his best friend’s face. There’s a protectiveness in Eddie’s voice, and it’s becoming more apparent with every word. There’s a feeling of gratitude in Buck that starts to tangle with the lingering guilt and doubt. Should Buck be so grateful that Eddie’s _ this _mad? Should that mean anything to Buck at all? 

“Shouldn’t you be telling me to forgive him and try to move on or something like that?” Buck questions. “I don’t know if this conversation is the healthiest, Eddie.” 

“Probably not,” Eddie admits, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe the temper’s not completely under control?” 

They both chuckle softly, and Buck rolls his eyes eyes at Eddie. 

“No, it doesn’t sound like it.”

They let silence fall over them. And as the quiet descends on him, Buck realizes how good it feels to just sit here; Buck’s disarmed, loose, and still in a way he hasn’t been all week. Buck can sit in the quiet now that the words are out, evaporated into the air around him. 

And he’s next to Eddie, who hears him, and feels what he said. Who looks at Buck and can confidently say someone was lucky to have Buck. 

Buck’s eyes fixate on the compass tattooed onto Eddie’s arm. His gaze wanders all over the dark ink before settling on the needle pointing north, and Buck marvels at the way it stands out against Eddie’s skin. Buck wants to touch Eddie’s arm there, and he imagines tracing over the tattoo with his fingers. This feeling is nothing new: he _ always _ wants to touch Eddie. But Buck’s never been in this position with Eddie. He’s never been _ this _close, feeling this exposed and naked and weightless.

“You know something, Buck?” Eddie speaks so softly that it barely disrupts the silence around them. 

Buck looks up from Eddie’s tattoo. “Yeah?”

Eddie smirks. “I think it’s less ‘my temper’ and more me just being mad at _ him _. Or being mad at anyone who’d try to hurt you.” 

“Really?” Buck’s voice comes out shaky and unsure. 

But Eddie just smiles and shrugs. 

“Yeah. I don’t think I can help it.” 

Buck wants to kiss Eddie. So—he does. 

Buck doesn’t give his brain a chance to stop him: he leans into Eddie’s space, his hands pressing flat onto the couch on either side of Eddie’s body. And Eddie makes a soft sound of surprise when their lips first meet, but it’s only a second later that Eddie’s kissing him back.

The kisses are slow and chaste, more chaste than Buck’s ever given or received before, but he’s in no rush to deepen or dirty them. Buck wants _ this —_as quiet and careful and tender as he can get it. 

But then, Eddie puts his hand against Buck’s chest. 

It’s not a harsh touch, but it’s _ solid _and it stops Buck in his tracks. Eddie doesn’t push Buck away, but Buck leans all the way back, anyway. Eddie’s eyes are wide now, but it’s with something that looks like distress.

“Buck, I—” Eddie stammers. “I don’t think this is a good idea. We shouldn’t be doing _ this. _” 

Buck watches Eddie, stunned silent, his heart skipping beats.

They shouldn't be doing this. It's not a good idea.

Eddie doesn't _want _to do this. Not with Buck. 

Oh. 

Buck’s standing. He doesn’t know when he decides to stand up, but he’s standing now. Buck finds himself moving away from Eddie, drifting towards his stairs. 

“I’m sorry. I’m . . . I’m really sorry, Eddie.” 

Eddie stands up from the couch, moving in an awkward way that Buck’s not used to.

“Buck, I—”

Buck shoves his hands into his pockets and looks at the ground. 

“You should go.” 

Eddie blinks at Buck. He opens his mouth and shuts it again. Then he sighs, and slowly walks out of Buck’s apartment. 

And when Eddie’s disappeared through the door, Buck strides across the room and locks it. He leans his head against the door, pressing his forehead against it as hard as he can. 

Then he lets out a loud, mangled sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this one super late at night, so you'll have to excuse the inevitable typos.


	7. Chapter 7

Buck barely remembers going to bed. 

He doesn’t know when he finally climbed up the stairs, or curled up in the middle of his bed. The hours pass. The day turns to night, and darkness shapes itself around Buck, but he doesn’t notice at all. The city goes quiet, then louder and louder until dead silence fills the air again. 

Buck hears his phone ring: once, then twice, then three, four times. The distance from Buck’s loft to the phone’s spot on his living room table might as well be the fucking Grand Canyon. The ringing is so distant that it sounds ghostly, the sound distorting itself in Buck’s brain, shifting until it becomes some hellish jingle that plays on loop.

The lines between sleep and wakefulness blur, and Buck isn’t sure what’s a nightmare and what’s actually in front of his eyes. Buck doesn’t know how long he lays there until he finally passes out, either from exhaustion or from a strong desire to be unconscious. 

Buck doesn’t notice the night fading into the day. He doesn’t notice the sunlight peeking in through his windows. He doesn’t notice the sounds of traffic outside of his window: people dragging themselves to work or school or maybe even back home. 

Buck just remembers crying. Lying in bed and crying, his whole body racked with sobs. Crying until the sobs give way to dry heaves and a sore throat. Crying until he felt like he couldn’t shed another tear. 

Buck could lie here and cry his whole life away, and he probably wouldn’t even notice that it’s gone. 

##

It must be morning. Or, the afternoon. 

The sun bursts through Buck’s window. It feels warmer today than it has all week; LA’s remembered that their winters aren’t cold like everyone else’s. 

Buck twists around in his bed, pushing the covers further down his body, but he still doesn’t get up. He knows that he should; he knows that he can’t just lie here forever. Buck knows that he blew his life up, and will have to clean up the debris at some point. 

But he can’t. Not right now. Right now, it’s nice to just lie here. 

##

Buck’s front door opens, and he hears hard footsteps in his place. 

And before he can get up and demand to know who’s in his house, someone’s walking up the stairs and snatching the covers off of Buck in a familiar way. 

Buck sits up, scrambling away until his back hits his headboard. 

“You didn’t answer when I called,” Maddie says, her arms crossed as she looks down at him. She has his phone in her hand, her grip tight. 

Buck’s stomach drops as he peers into his big sister’s tired face. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck mumbles. “I just kinda crashed last night.” Or this morning. Or yesterday afternoon. Buck still can’t tell. 

Buck pushes himself off of his bed and walks past Maddie into his bathroom.

“Chimney told me about what happened yesterday,” Maddie calls after him.

Buck flinches as he turns the faucet handle, moving it until the hot water is spraying as forcefully as possible. 

“Of course he did,” Buck mutters bitterly. Then, in a louder voice: “I just had a really bad day, Maddie. That’s all.” 

“I think getting sent home because you tried to fight someone is a little worse than having a ‘bad day’, Buck,” Maddie yells at him over the water’s spray. 

Maddie leans in the doorway of the bathroom, and Buck pretends not to see her. Buck scrubs his face roughly, trying to ignore the way the water burns his skin, turning it bright red with irritation. Buck dries his face, and shoves his toothbrush and paste in his mouth before Maddie can ask him to answer any questions. 

It’s a little funny; Buck has spent all week begging to not be left alone with his thoughts, but now all he wants to be left alone. 

Maddie crosses her arms as Buck rinses and gurgles.

“Any chance you want to tell me about it?” 

Buck spits, leaning so far over that he’s nearly bent at the waist. He doesn’t stand up straight right after; he grips the edge of the vanity and closes his eyes. Buck feels like every bone in his body has become brittle--any movement can snap them in half. 

“Nope,” Buck says, the word nearly swallowed by the sound of the water. 

He stands up slowly, turns off the faucet, and forces himself to look Maddie in the face. Maddie’s eyes track him closely as he moves past her back into his bedroom. 

“I’d _ really _rather not,” Buck says, and he heavily sits down on his bed.

Maddie watches him for a moment. Then she sighs, and sits down next to him. 

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t,” Maddie says in a resigned tone. “_ But _, you could at least make sure your phone is within arm's reach, Buck. That way I won’t have to worry about you more than I usually do.” 

Maddie hands Buck his phone, and he takes it with a rueful smile. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck repeats. “I didn’t mean to make you worry or ignore you or anything like that. I kinda just . . . I really screwed up yesterday, and I just wanted to forget about what happened.” 

Maddie nods at Buck, and then she leans her head on his shoulder. Buck looks over at her, and he can easily see that she didn’t have a good day, either, and it’s wearing on her. 

“I get it,” she says sadly.

Buck’s face flushes, and he feels ashamed. He could’ve _ at least _ asked how she was doing. 

“Are you . . . are you okay?” 

Maddie snorts, and the movement of her body jostles Buck’s shoulder. 

“I don’t even know at this point,” Maddie admits. “I just . . . I want this to be over with. I don't understand how he can _ die _and still ruin our lives.”

Buck grits his teeth as he thinks of their father. His eyes fill with tears; Buck’s lost count of how many times he’s cried, but of course his father can draw more tears out of him. From beyond the grave, he’s still controlling them; their father hoovers above them, an invisible puppeteer pulling and tugging on their strings. 

“It’s like he’s not even a _ person _any more,” Buck mutters. “Like he’s some type of monster, or demon or something.”

“Like he’s the Boogeyman,” Maddie whispers. “And we’re just trying to hide under the covers. Except hiding under the covers doesn’t actually work.” 

Buck lets himself cry again, not even bothering to wipe at the tears as they fall.

“What _ does _work, then? How do we get rid of him?”

Maddie turns her head towards Buck, resting her chin on his shoulder. A ghost of a smile appears on her lips.

“Guess we gotta force him back under the bed.” 

##

Later, when Maddie has gone home, and Buck forces himself to pack a bag, he finally remembers that he has forgotten to check his phone. 

Buck picks his phone up from his bed tenderly, as if he thinks it’ll burn him. 

Two missed calls from Maddie. One from Hen, one from Chimney. Two from Bobby. 

And two from Eddie. 

Buck blinks at his phone, and a dour laugh finds its way out of him. He looks at the eight missed calls and realizes that he’s probably going to be coming back to LA with no job and no best friend. And it’ll be his own fault. 

There’s no point in calling any of them back. Especially not Eddie. 

Buck puts his phone on its charger, and he turns around and goes back to haphazardly packing his bag. He’s got a long two days ahead of him.

##

When Patricia Johnson married Edward Buckley, she knew she was marrying a tough man. 

She knew he was not overly affectionate, or particularly sensitive. Edward was never big on compliments or romantic gestures. But that didn’t matter to Patricia. Edward was a stern man, but he was also a logical, level-headed one. He was a hard-worker, and he took pride in providing for his family. 

So, Patricia knew it would work out. Whatever he lacked in love and tenderness, he made up for in reliability. Edward would take care of Patricia. 

And he did take care of her . . . until Madison was born.

Patricia will never understand what happened. But Madison’s birth marked a change in Edward. It was the beginning of the drinking, of the cheating, of the short temper. It was the beginning of Patricia having to walk on eggshells around Edward. It was the beginning of the end, really. 

And it only got worse when Evan was born 7 years later. It was like Edward resented having children in his life; as if Edward had woken up one day and realized he didn’t want _ this _ life with _ this _family. 

It didn’t matter that the three of them did everything they could to please him, to make him love them. No matter how well Edward’s business was going, no matter how politically successful he was, he was still angry. And it was _ this family’s _fault. And there was nothing any of them--even Patricia--could do. 

Edward wanted something that none of them could be. And he hated them for it. 

Don’t ask why Patricia stayed with Edward; you won’t like the answer. People don’t like women who stay married to bad men. They say that those women are weak, or selfish, or stupid. People don’t understand the fear, the instability, the horrifying knowledge that you are _ nothing _without the life this man has given you. People don’t understand having nowhere else to go, or no one else to turn to. 

In a way, Patricia envied her daughter. Because when Maddie had to run, she found a place and a person to run to. Patricia never had that, and she never would. 

So, Patricia stayed married to Edward Buckley for nearly 30 years. She said “I do,” and then she took a deep breath, and held it tight. And it wasn’t until Sunday, February 16 that she let it go.

##

It’s snowed in Hershey. 

It’s no small flakes, either; it’s piles of snow, coating every street, sidewalk, rooftop and front lawn. It’s blindingly bright, the sunlight bouncing off of the white mounds and redirecting itself into the eyes of anyone unlucky enough to be outside in this weather. The wind is insidiously cold, and the danger of hypothermia and frostbite is very much present as the wind whips exposed skin. 

Buck had forgotten how cold it can get up here. He’d gotten used to warmth; between Brazil and LA, Buck had gotten used to feeling the sun on his skin. Unbearable heat became normal for him. This freezing cold could never become normal. 

Maddie doesn’t shiver as much as Buck as they sit in the back of the Uber. Buck keeps glancing at her, wondering how she’s not freezing to death, when he remembers that, of course, she can tolerate the cold in a way that he can’t. Maddie _ stayed. _She stayed for a lot longer than he had and can withstand a lot more than he can. Maddie has a strength that Buck will never understand. 

Before Buck is ready for it, the Uber pulls up in front of their childhood home. They get their bags out of the trunk of the car, and Buck feels a chill run down his spine. The cold settles into Buck’s stomach as he and Maddie approach the door. 

It looks the same: it’s the same house, with the same porch, with the same colored shutters. It’s the last place he saw his father, the last place he looked his mother in the eye. 

Buck wants to leave. He wants to get back into the car and get to the airport as fast as he can. Buck wants to run away, just like he did all those years ago. 

They stand at the door, huddled close together. Maddie shoots Buck a nervous look, and raises her fist. But the door swings open before Maddie can knock.

Patricia stands in the doorway, looking shorter and more frail than Buck’s ever seen. She smiles at them.

“Welcome home, kids.” 


	8. Chapter 8

There’s something wrong with the house. 

Buck looks around as he walks through the living room and up the stairs to his old bedroom. The house isn’t dirty or damaged in anyway. It’s practically spotless. Their house has  _ always  _ been spotless for as long as Buck can remember. The furniture is different, but that’s to be expected. It’s been years since Buck’s been here. He didn’t expect his mother to keep the same couch and chairs for decades on end.

Everything looks fine and in perfect order, but Buck still trembles as he walks down the hall. The stairs creak underneath Buck’s feet, and the sound makes Buck jump out of his skin. He grips his bag’s strap tightly; there’s  _ something  _ lingering in the air, and it’s making Buck anxious. 

There’s an energy here, some type of pulsating thickness--a heaviness weighing down on him. It’s  _ dark _ , even though Patricia has lights on. If Buck didn’t know any better, he’d say the house was haunted. 

Buck tepidly steps into his old bedroom. It feels so . . .  _ foreign  _ to him; he feels like an intruder creeping into someone else’s space. His childhood room feels more like a hotel than a bedroom. The bed’s comforter and sheets are either freshly washed or new. There’s a part of Buck that doesn’t want to put his bag down onto the comforter for fear of disturbing it. 

The room looks just as eerily clean and neat and sparse as Buck remembers; they weren’t ever allowed to hang posters on their walls, or to paint the walls, or to do anything to prove that their rooms were theirs _ .  _ There’s no evidence that Buck--or anyone, really--has ever  _ lived  _ in this room. 

Buck carefully puts his bag in the middle of the bed. He opens it and immediately takes his black suit out. He grimaces at the slight wrinkles in the fabric. Buck’s gonna have to iron it. The thought of wearing a wrinkled suit to his father’s funeral passes through his mind, and Buck chuckles darkly. His father would blow a gasket if he knew that Buck was even thinking about it. Edward was always so obsessive about that type of stuff: Buck would end up with a black eye over an unironed pair of pants. 

Maybe Buck shouldn’t iron his suit. It could be his final “Fuck you” to Edward James Buckley. 

While Buck is in the middle of this thought, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Buck digs it out and looks to see a text message.

**Eddie, 12:38 PM : I understand if you don’t wanna talk to me, but could you tell me if you guys have made it safely? **

Buck’s heart stops. 

Buck stares at Eddie’s text. He reads the words to himself, and he feels so many emotions that it makes him feel unsteady on his feet. 

Surprisingly enough, a strong sense of annoyance pokes through and floods Buck’s body. Why, exactly, does Eddie keeping calling and texting? Why does Eddie feel the need to check in on Buck after having rejected him? 

Why can’t Eddie just ignore him? It would make it a lot easier if Eddie just enjoyed the fact that Buck was gone for two days. Doing stuff like  _ this  _ is only going to make it even more awkward when Eddie eventually has to tell Buck that their friendship is over because Buck couldn’t keep his mouth to himself. 

Buck wants to just throw his phone across the room and leave it shattered against the floor. But he can't because he needs it. And because he already knows that if he doesn’t answer now, Eddie will simply try again later. 

**12:45 PM: Yeah, we made it. At our mom’s house now.**

Buck shoves his phone back into his pocket. He stands still for a moment; he can hear his heart dancing around in his chest. Buck’s nerves are already shot to Hell. And he still has to go downstairs and actually  _ talk  _ to his mother. 

His mother, who he hasn’t physically seen in about 8 years. Who he hasn’t spoken to in around three years, when he’d told her that he was leaving Brazil and moving to Los Angeles. When she’d asked him what would be the harm in actually coming back home, and Buck had said--with too much force in his voice--that he would  _ never  _ come back home, not as long as  _ he’s  _ there. 

Well,  _ he’s  _ gone now. And here Buck is, in the middle of his old room, trying to pull what’s left of himself together. 

Buck takes a deep breath, and forces himself out of the bedroom and to the stairs. When he gets to the top of the stairs, he hears Maddie and Patricia’s soft voices and stops. 

“He’s great . . .” Maddie’s saying. “Yeah, no, he’s really sweet. We’ve been together for about a year now . . .” 

Buck grimaces. Jeez, they just got here and their mother is already interrogating Maddie about Chimney? 

“He sounds like a nice man.” Patricia’s voice is . . . off. She sounds so cool and detached--no warmth at all. She sounds nothing like she did when they were younger. 

Patricia clears her throat, and Buck can hear a glass or a mug being placed on the table. 

“From what you’ve told me, he sounds very different than your husband was.”

The comment makes Buck tense, and he can imagine the agitated look on Maddie’s face. Buck can hear the tightness in Maddie’s voice as she responds. 

“They have absolutely nothing in common,” Maddie answers. “He’s the complete opposite of Doug, in every way.”

Patricia pauses for a long moment before speaking again.

“Well, I have to say I’m a little surprised. But I’m very glad for you, Madison.”

“Thank you.” Maddie’s words come out shakily. “Mom--thank you.” 

Buck hears his sister stifle a sob, and the sound pushes him to walk down the stairs. It’s time for him to rescue Maddie from this conversation. 

“There you are, Evan,” Patricia says as he walks into the living room. “I was wondering if you were going to join us. You’ve always had that habit of hiding in your room.”

Maddie looks over at him with bleary eyes. Buck flashes them a smile. 

“I just need a second,” Buck answers. He sits down in the big chair across from the couch. It’s another piece of furniture Buck doesn’t recognize. 

“It’s, um . . . it’s been a while,” Buck finishes awkwardly. 

Patricia nods, and smiles at Buck with an unnervingly patient look on her face.

“Yes, it has, Evan. I have to say that it’s a little odd to see you  _ both  _ again.”

Maddie shoots Buck a glance and shifts uncomfortably on the couch. Patricia notices; she reaches out and puts her hand on Maddie’s knee, and even that movement seems unnatural. 

“But I’m so glad you’re here,” Patricia says. “You can help me navigate your aunts.” 

“Oh,  _ God _ , I forgot about them,” Maddie says with a groan. 

Patricia chuckles. “You two were never fond of either of them.”

“That’s because they were stuck up and mean to you,” Buck mutters. 

Patricia nods at Buck. “That, they were. Thankfully, I haven’t had to deal with them for  _ quite _ a while.”

Buck frowns at that. His dad’s family didn’t visit all that often, but Buck remembers having to deal with his aunts Lily and Marie at least twice a year. It felt like they came around  _ just  _ help Edward be cruel. So, it’s a little odd to hear his mother say that she hadn’t seen them in a while. 

Maddie catches it, too, and her brows are furrowed in confusion. Buck watches as Maddie’s eyes trail around the living room, picking up on something that had managed to slip Buck’s gaze.

“Mom? Where are all the pictures?” 

“Pardon?” Patricia blinks at Maddie.

“The  _ pictures _ . The family photos? I don’t see any of them.”

Buck sits up a little straighter, and he looks around the room. Buck remembers the photos; framed family portraits that Edward used to force them to take. Christmas photos, photos of graduations, promotions, stupid seasonal portraits. They used to adorn the walls of the house’s lower floor, right alongside the ridiculously expensive pieces of art that Edward would buy. 

Sure enough, all the pictures are gone. The wall is bare; even the artwork has been taken down. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” Patricia takes a long sip from her mug, peering at Buck from over the rim. She puts the mug back down and shrugs. “I took them down when your father left. They’re somewhere in the attic.” 

When he . . . Buck and Maddie stare at each for a moment, bewilderment written all over their faces.

“You mean . . . you took them down when he died this week?” Maddie carefully asks.

To their shock, Patricia shakes her head.

“No, no--when your father  _ left. _ ” 

“ _ Left _ ?” Buck demands. “As in ‘left you’?” 

“Yes,” Patricia responds in a frustratingly casual tone, as if Buck had asked her if she’d eaten or gone to the grocery store. 

“ _ Dad  _ left  _ you _ ?!” Maddie nearly shouts the question. Her words are coated in astonishment and ire. “After all that time and . . .  _ he  _ left  _ you _ ?” 

Buck stares at his mother, his face frozen. Their father spent years terrorizing them--terrorizing  _ her _ \--and then just . . . up and left when he felt like it. He left as if there was something wrong with  _ her,  _ not him. 

It shouldn’t surprise either of them; of course he was capable of something like that. But, sitting here and listening to his mother talk about their father walking out on her like it was a completely normal occurrence is maddening. 

Patricia nods again. She seems completely unfazed. 

“He left about two . . . actually, nearly three years ago now. He went off with some woman who was barely in her 40s.” 

“So, were you two legally separated, then?” Maddie presses. “Had he filed for divorce?”

Patricia scoffs and waves a hand at Maddie. “Oh, he couldn’t have been bothered. He just up and left. I suppose he was concerned about splitting the assets. Of course, it helps me out now, since the insurance and all that still goes to me.” 

Money. Buck and Maddie are sitting here, trying to process the fact that their father ran off on their mother almost  _ three years  _ ago, and their mother is flippantly talking about money. 

Buck looks at his mother sitting there. Small, frail, graying, holding a mug that looks oddly large in her hands. He looks at her sitting on that couch, and it dawns on him just how  _ lonely  _ she seems. 

“You’ve been alone in this house for almost three years?” Buck asks the question, but he already knows the answer. 

Maddie looks over to Patricia with a deep frown. 

“I mean, you haven’t been  _ alone  _ alone, right?” Maddie asks. “You’ve had friends over, at least, right?”

“No, not usually” Patricia’s voice is small as she answers. 

Maddie stares at her mother in disbelief. “ . . . What do you mean ‘not usually?’” 

“It was difficult to make friends while being married to your father . . .”

How could she have made friends? When Buck thinks about it, he knows that it would’ve been impossible. He and Maddie could barely make friends with their father around, so how could their mom have managed it? 

“You never said anything,” Maddie says. “All this time. You’ve never reached out and told us . . .”

Buck looks at his mother through narrowed eyes. Three years. Three years in this dark, scary ass house  _ alone _ . And she never said anything at all? How could she have gone that long without saying--

Wait. 

A realization hits Buck in his chest. He thinks of  _ that  _ phone call, where he’d raised his voice even though he hadn’t meant to. Where his mother had just sighed and hung up . . .

She  _ had  _ said something. Or, she’d tried to. But Buck hadn’t listened. 

Patricia shrugs again, and she looks over to Buck. 

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” she says. “You both were clearly better off.” 

Buck can feel Maddie glancing at him again, but he can’t take his eyes off of Patricia. She looks at Buck steadily, and Buck feels overwhelmed with guilt. 

“Mom . . . I’m sorry,” Buck apologizes breathlessly, as if his lungs have suddenly forgotten how to work. “I’m really sorry.” 

Patricia blinks at Buck. Buck sees  _ something  _ in her eyes: an emotion he can’t quite name, but it’s an  _ emotion _ . It’s an indication that she’s feeling something after all.

“You don’t have to apologize, honey,” Patricia says, that unnameable emotion still in her eyes. “I understood.” 

Buck’s phone vibrates in his pocket, and he’s so preoccupied by the feelings unfurling in him that the sudden movement of the phone scares him. He uses it as an excuse to tear his eyes away from his mother’s blank face, and to avoid the confused stare Maddie’s giving him. 

**Eddie, 12:59 PM: That’s good. How is your mom?**

Buck stares down at his phone. He won’t ever able to explain what he’s just realized, especially not now, and  _ especially  _ not to Eddie. How would Buck even begin to say it? How does he tell someone that his mother  _ needed  _ him, and he left anyway?

Buck doesn’t even want to try. 

So, he texts Eddie back, his fingers shaking as he sends his short reply. 

**1:00 PM: Okay. She seems okay. **


	9. Chapter 9

Buck should be asleep.

His father’s funeral starts in approximately 6 hours, and Buck has to be up and functioning in about 4-and-a-half hours. He doesn’t think he’ll be well-received if he’s yawning or nodding off during the whole thing. 

Buck should’ve been asleep hours ago. He thought he would be, what with how tired he was when got into bed. His whole body slumped as he laid down, every bit of energy vanishing as he sank into the bed. But now, he’s wide awake, staring at a digital clock on the dresser. 

Buck sits up in the bed, kicking the covers off of him. Buck could blame his insomnia on a lot of things: he can’t sleep because he’s in a strange place (a _ very _strange place.) Maybe he can’t sleep because how drained and rattled he still feels from this afternoon. Maybe he can’t sleep because of some weird altitude thing. 

Or . . . maybe the thought of the funeral is looming over Buck a little more than he’d like to admit. 

It’s just . . . Buck and Maddie are going to be stuffed into a cold, creepy church with a bunch of their father’s friends; a bunch of people who smiled and laughed with Edward and never once considered the possibility that Edward was mistreating his family. They’re going to be looking at Buck and Maddie and expecting them to be devastated and hurt. 

They’re going to be expecting Edward’s kids to _ at least _say nice things about him; they don’t realize that there’s nothing nice that Buck and Maddie could about him. Buck can’t even think of a good lie to tell. 

Buck draws his knees to his chest, and lets his head flop down on top of them. He feels like a child again in the worst way possible; lost, alone, _ small. _Buck remembers sitting just like this in this bed, wishing that he could curl up so tightly that he’d disappear into thin air. It’s not so different now; he squeezes his eyes shut and wishes he could be anywhere else in the world right now. 

A soft creaking noise forces Buck’s eyes open. He can hear someone slowly walking past his door.

“Hello?” Buck calls softly. For a second, he remembers his thought about the house being haunted, and he lets himself be scared. 

But then Maddie’s voice floats through the door.

“ . . . Can I come in?”

Buck chuckles, partially out of relief and partially out of embarrassment at himself. 

“Yeah, come in.” 

Maddie steps in and gently closes the door behind her. Buck smiles at her and beckons her over, scooting back so that she has more room to sit down on the bed. 

“Soooo, you’re awake, too?” Maddie says as she plops down. 

“Unfortunately,” Buck says softly. “I’m gonna hate myself in the morning.”

Maddie grimaces. “I hate myself _ now _. I tried willing myself to sleep and it’s not working.” 

“Do think anyone will notice if we just fall asleep during the service?” Buck whines. 

Maddie rolls her eyes at Buck. “Considering we have to sit in the _ front row _, I think someone will notice, Buck.” 

Buck groans and slams his eyes shut again. That desire to be _ anywhere else _flares up again, and Buck squeezes his own arms. Maddie quietly laughs at the way Buck’s suddenly folded in on himself. 

“I just had a flashback to when we were kids,” Maddie says. “We used to do _ this _all the time, didn’t we?”

Buck nods, a small smile pulling at his mouth. 

“Yeah, because you were apparently allergic to your own room.”

Maddie raises an eyebrow at Buck. “I don’t recall you kicking me out very often.”

Buck shrugs, but he smiles at her. “I guess I liked sharing my misery with someone else.” 

Maddie sighs. It’s not quite a happy sound, but it sounds pretty close. 

“You know what? I feel like we’ll sleep a lot better when we get home,” Maddie mutters. 

Buck is about to scoff and let a tart _ I know I will _slip out. But then, he stops for a moment, and he thinks about what’s actually waiting for him back home.

“Nah, it’s still going to be weird,” Buck mumbles. “I mean, for me, anyway . . .”

Maddie tilts her head at him. “Because of the fight? You’re worried about Bobby?” 

Buck holds himself tighter and nods. _ And Eddie _is knocking against the back of his teeth, but he won’t let it out. Not now, at least. 

“Maybe it’s not as bad as you think it is,” Maddie says quietly. 

“Of course you say that,” Buck mumbles. 

“I’m saying it because I _ believe it _ , Buck,” Maddie says empathetically. “It probably _ can’t _be as bad you as you imagine it to be.”

Buck glares down at his own feet. “You sound very sure of that.”

“I’m speaking from experience,” Maddie retorts. “I mean, I had what I thought was a huge fight with Chimney the other day. I thought I’d hurt him. But then, I talked to him today and found out that it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought.” 

Buck hesitantly peers up at his sister. “Yeah? What about?” 

“Chimney wanted to come here with me, and I didn’t want him to.”

Buck lifts his head up and levels Maddie with a shocked look.

“Wait, really?” 

Maddie nods. “Yeah, he did. He said he wanted to support me the best way he knew how. And plus, I think he wanted to meet mom.” Maddie sighs as she continues. “But, I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want him to see _ this _ \--the kind of _ mess _ we came from. I thought . . . I thought it would change how he thought of me.”

Buck blinks at Maddie. He understands; God knows, he completely understands. But Buck also sees the way Chimney looks at his sister, and he hears the casual way Maddie talks about Chimney potentially moving in soon. Buck can see how Maddie and Chimney have already tied their lives together, as if it were second nature to them. 

“I don’t think there’s much you can do to make him change how he thinks of you, Mads,” Buck responds. “Chim loves you. I can’t imagine him changing his mind about that.”

“I know. I mean--I realize that _ now _ . I totally had my doomsday mentality on,” Maddie says with a small smile. “That’s why I’m telling you this, Buck. Just like how Chimney loves me and understood where I was coming from, Bobby loves _ you. _And he’ll understand where you were coming from.” 

Buck bites his lip; he wants to argue, but, logically, he knows that there’s nothing to argue about. 

Buck closes his eyes, and lets his chin hit the top of his knees again. Quiet darkness surrounds them both, and Buck’s finally starting to feel himself slip into sleep when Maddie speaks again. 

“. . . Eddie loves you, too,” Maddie whispers into the darkness. “If that’s something else you’re worried about.” 

Buck doesn’t bother opening his eyes. He doesn’t even bother with getting upset or being surprised. He’s suddenly too tired to do it, anyway.

“What makes you say that?” 

Maddie snorts. “Because I _ know you _, little brother. And I’ve noticed how you look whenever Eddie’s brought up. And how your whole face lights up when you talk about him or Christopher.” 

Again, that urge to argue pops up. Buck wants to push back, to offer any excuse he can think of to “explain” himself. But, what’s the point of lying to someone who will--already has--immediately clock you? 

So, instead, Buck says what he believes to be true. 

“Eddie doesn’t _ love _ me. He doesn’t even like me. Not like _ that _, anyway.”

Maddie responds with much more certainty that Buck would expect. 

“You’re assuming that. And you’re assuming _ wrong. _”

Buck feels sleep tugging at him a little harder. He speaks without heat in his low voice, the edges of the words softened and blurred.

“You know _ me _ , but you don’t know _ him _ . He doesn’t _ want _ me, Maddie.” _ It’s as bad as I think it is. _

Maddie says nothing for what feels like an eternity. Then, Buck feels her standing up, the bed shifting from the loss of her weight. 

“Whatever you say, Buck.” Maddie’s footsteps are as soft as her words as she walks out of the room. “Maybe you’ll feel differently tomorrow.” 

“Doubt it.” 

But the words are barely audible as they escape Buck’s barely-moving lips. 

Not that it matters: Maddie’s gone anyway. There’s no one for Buck to argue with but himself. 

##

The church their family goes to used to scare Buck when he was a kid. 

The outside of it kind of reminds Buck of a castle from a fairy tale--a place a lonely princess or vengeful witch or tormented king might live in.

Cold, gray stone with moss creeping up the bottom and sides of it; wrought iron gates covering the stained-glass windows; dark, mahogany doors that rattle if you slam them too hard; and a gray, stone tower attached to the side, rising above the roof of the church, ominously dark windows on its front and sides. 

Buck used to imagine that he would locked away in that tower. He would have to sit on the freezing stone floor, peering out of the window, waiting for someone to come rescue him. 

(Too many times, he imagined a knight in silver armor, or a prince on a white horse coming to rescue him and take him to a faraway kingdom. Then, he’d remember what his father told him about men who like other men, and Buck would cry and rub his eyes until they stung and his whole face was red.) 

The inside of the church is more inviting, but just barely. The walls are completely white, no paintings or artwork, and a huge, wooden cross hangs above the door. Cold sunlight shines through big windows, the rays turning blue thanks to the window’s blue tint. 

Exposed rafters and criss-crossed wooden beams make up the “ceiling.” Buck used to look up at all that wood and think about how many splinters you could get. Today, he’s staring up at them and thinking about what a fire hazard they are. They’d burn right away, and bring the roof of the church down on everyone. 

Buck keeps staring at those beams. He stares and he runs scenarios in his head; how fast could they get out? Is there anyone here would need help escaping a fire? How fast would an electrical fire started by the church organ spread up the walls of the church? Buck stares and plays this morbid game with himself, letting himself get more and more lost in his own mind. 

He doesn’t want to look at the casket. Buck would rather think of a million scenarios and exercises in his mind if it meant that he doesn’t have to look at the casket. 

Maddie notices; Buck can feel her glancing at him every so often. He could look down towards her and try to tell her he’s alright, but it would probably be a lie.

Patricia does not notice; she stares straight ahead, her gaze fixed on the casket, her eyes raking over the American flag draped over it. Maddie shifts around every so often, trying to keep her movements small and inconspicuous. Patricia doesn’t move at all. 

If any of the other attendants notice the odd family, they’re doing it covertly. Everyone else seems to be sitting quietly in the spots of the uncomfortable pews.

There are _ a lot _of people, more than Buck expected; old colleagues, friends, business partners, random community members. Some are crying, tears streaking their faces. Some are sitting with grim expressions on their face. Some look at peace, as if they feel glad that someone they care for isn’t suffering anymore. 

Buck doesn’t recognize any of these faces. 

They’ve come to remember a man Buck does not know, one he only ever saw on a campaign trail or in front of a camera. They’ve come to celebrate the Edward they remember, the one who gave them a raise or personally answered their complaints about potholes or fixed their cars at a discounted price.

They’re not celebrating the man who decorated Buck’s body with yellow, green and purple bruises, or the man who made his daughter so nervous that she would pull out her own hair. They’re not celebrating the man who walked out on a woman who did nothing but hold him as close as she could for most of her life. 

These spectators don’t know who’s laying in that casket today, and Buck doesn’t know who they’re holding in their memories.

There are two Edwards here today, and they could never be merged into one. 

##

The funeral is a laggard blur. 

Buck can’t tell if it lasts 30 minutes or 3 hours. It all passes in front of Buck, drifting in and out of his ears. It feels unreal in the most disorienting of ways. The choir’s selection blend into one note. Speeches and comments fall apart, reconstructing themselves into a language that Buck can’t understand. 

The pastor gives the eulogy, and Buck can’t tell if the pastor _ knows _that he’s lying, or if he genuinely believes the things he says about Edward. 

“A faithful husband . . .” Buck coughs to mask the scoff he almost let slip. 

“A devoted father . . .” Buck bites his own tongue so hard that he worries that he might’ve drawn blood. 

“And an extraordinary man . . .”

And _ this _is the one that does it; Buck hears it, and looks away from the wooden beams, deliberating lowering his gaze to the casket. 

It’s . . . just a box. Closed, dark brown wood, the star-spangled banner draped over its lower half.

It looks too small to hold Edward; Buck remembers him being so big and tall. He remembers Edward as a looming figure, all broad muscles and staggering height. Buck remembers his father being the type of man they talk about in folk tale: less human, more mythic. 

But maybe Buck’s memory is off a little.

Because as Buck looks at that casket--looks at its dimensions, and at how plain it is--he’s reminded that Edward really was just a man. He was a bad man that was good at pretending he was good. 

Edward wasn’t faithful, and he wasn’t devoted, and he wasn’t extraordinary. He was just a _ man. _

Buck’s eyes fill with tears. He thinks of the version of himself that was always so scared: the little boy that used imagined being rescued and taken far, far away. Buck closes his eyes as tears start to roll down his cheek. 

Maddie looks at him, and laces her fingers with his. Buck squeezes her hand, holding on for dear life. 

##

The burial is quick. Buck knows that for certain. 

He stands close to Maddie and Patricia, huddled in between the two. He and Maddie hold hands again, and they both keep their heads turned downwards to escape the icy wind. 

Patricia keeps her chin high, peering down at Edward’s casket as if it is already beneath her. 

The pastors shouts his prayer, vying for his voice to be heard above the wind that whips around them. 

“Let the Lord guide his spirit into the Great Beyond . . .”

And Edward descends into his final resting place, down, down, down into the ground. Buck and Maddie watch him go. They watch him until he finally disappears beneath their feet. The cold wind crawls up Buck’s back, but this time, he does not shiver. 

Here lies Edward James Buckley, lowered into a hole in the earth. And his family--the ones he didn’t love, the ones he left behind, the ones who will now have left _ him _behind--stand above him. 

Edward was just a man, one small enough to fit into that box in the ground. And he’s gone now. 

Buck takes a breath, sucking in as much cold, crisp, clean air as he can into his body. He can see his breath as he exhales; 28 years of life exist in the small cloud of mist. 

Buck watches it as it evaporates into the air.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! I hope you have a wonderful holiday!

There are too many people in this damn house. 

Logically, Buck knew this would happen afterwards. Yes, the people who came to Edward’s funeral would want to go to Edward’s house afterwards. They’ll want to mill around with drinks in their hands, give their condolences to Patricia, and then gossip about how much money Edward left behind, or about how thin Patricia looks, or about how this is the first time anyone has seen Edward’s kids in _ ages. _

Buck _ knew _this would happen. But, somehow, knowing it would happen has not prepared Buck for how claustrophobic he feels. 

So many attendants and well-wishers have crowded into the living room of their mother’s house that it makes Buck want to crawl out of his skin. He sees groups of people dressed in black, murmuring about their dearly departed friend, and his heart starts to writhe around in his chest, as if it, too, is trying to escape this bedlam. 

Buck usually isn’t _ this _averse to crowds. Actually, he’s pretty decent with crowds. But, then again, it’s not like he’s in the most comforting of crowds. 

Buck finds himself following Maddie’s every move, shuffling behind her like he used to do when they were kids and Maddie was in charge of watching Buck in the grocery store. It’s not like Maddie minds; she even reaches back for him a few times. 

Maddie’s reaching back for him now, actually; they’re trying to maneuver through the crowd, politely muttering “Excuse me” to get by, both praying that they don’t have to offer up any more painful small talk. 

It’s almost over. That’s what Buck keeps reminding himself. It’s almost over. 

“Madison! Evan! How long has it been?”

The sound of Aunt Marie’s voice feels like a burst of frosty air. Maddie and Buck both freeze before slowly--reluctantly--turning to face her. 

“Aunt Marie!” Maddie greets with fake brightness. “How are you?”

Marie grins at Maddie like the Cheshire Cat. She puts her undoubtedly cold hand on Maddie’s cheek, and Buck has to suppress a shudder. Maddie grins widely, and Buck’s impressed with how authentic her fake smile can look. 

“All the better for having seen you two, my dear,” Marie says in a slippery tone.

Buck bites the inside of his cheek to stop the Little Red Riding Hood joke he wants to make. 

“It’s been a while, Aunt Marie,” Buck says instead. 

Marie turns her broad grin to Buck. “It has! The last time I saw you both, you were just two kids, sitting right over there on that couch, hanging about.”

Marie drops her hand from Maddie’s face, and decides to poke at Buck’s left arm instead. 

“Evan, you were a wimpy little something the last time I saw you,” Marie quips. “I guess running off to California actually made a man of you!” 

Maddie reaches back and squeezes Buck’s hand, but she manages to keep her fake smile on. Buck plasters a smile on his own face, and he’s very proud of himself for not letting his aunt get under his skin. 

“Well, you know, I had to get in shape because I’m a firefighter,” Buck responds with more politeness than he realized he was capable of. 

“A firefighter! Wow! That’s a career your father would be proud of.” 

Buck nods along, but he’s gritting his teeth. The idea of making Edward proud is so foreign. To be honest, it’s even a little repulsive now. 

Marie turns back to Maddie. “You’re not still running up and down the ER floor, are you? I never understood why you didn’t try to aim higher.”

It’s Buck’s turn to squeeze Maddie’s hand. A sense of protectiveness rises in Buck as Maddie gives her aunt a fake giggle.

“I’m a dispatcher now, actually,” Maddie informs. “And I really love my job.”

Marie pulls a face as if the air stinks. “That’s a bit of a step backwards, isn’t it? I mean, money wise.” 

“Aw, I doubt that matters,” Buck interjects. He looks over to Maddie, his smile very real this time. “Maddie’s saved more lives than I can count as a dispatcher.”

Maddie blushes and nudges her arm against Buck’s. “You’re pretty good at saving lives yourself.” 

For a second, it’s just the two of them, feeling proud of each other, how far they’ve come, how they _ survived _long enough to get there. 

Marie ruins the moment with another airy, grating giggle. 

“Well, I’m glad California helped you both make something of yourselves,” she says. “You know, we were a little worried for awhile! It seemed a little touch and go!” 

Buck bites down on his tongue, and Maddie tenses all over. But before either one of them can say something disrespectful, Patricia calls them over from across the room, beckoning for them to come into the kitchen. 

“Madison, Evan? Can you two help me with something?”

“Of course!” Maddie squeaks, and she and Buck both toss Marie a polite “Excuse me” as they go.

When they reach her, Patricia puts her hands on their arms and walks them into the kitchen. 

“Couldn’t leave you with her for _ too _long.”

Buck snorts as Maddie struggles to hold back a laugh. Patricia rubs their arms and looks at them fondly. 

“I think we’ve gotten through it,” she whispers, squeezing them gently. The sound of her voice fills Buck with relief. “The worst is over now, kids.” 

##

“I think I need wine.” 

Maddie rubs her temples as she mumbles, the events of the day still knocking on her nerves. 

Buck looks at Maddie from across the dining room table and chuckles. Three of them sit at the table, each sagging into their chairs. They’ve all taken off those stuffy funeral clothes and thrown on sweatpants, t-shirts, even pajama pants in Patricia’s case. They’re sitting at the table, lazy, dressed down and relaxed in a way that never would’ve been allowed years ago. 

Buck is about to remind Maddie that a liquor store is probably open somewhere when their mother gets up, opens one of the pantry doors, and pulls out a bottle of red wine. 

“Evan, can you get glasses from that cabinet? The one right next to the stove.” 

“_Sure _.” Buck gets up and retrieves two wine glasses. 

He looks at them with shock and confusion on his face as he rinses them out and places them on the table.

“Um, Mom? Since when do you drink wine?” Maddie asks. “Or, you know, _ anything _ that’s not water?” 

Patricia smiles serenely as she carefully pours Maddie and herself a glass. 

“I’ve been told that there excellent health benefits to red wine,” Patricia says smartly.

Buck bites back another laugh as Maddie narrows her eyes at Patricia.

_ “Mom. _”

Patricia dismissively waves at her daughter as she sits back down in her chair.

“I’m _ old _ now, dear. I’m allowed to loosen up every now and then, aren’t I?”

Maddie doesn’t answer her; she just shakes her head with a bemused smile before taking a long sip of wine. Patricia sips her delicately, as if she’s following some etiquette that Buck doesn’t know. Buck is fascinated as he watches them both. They’re both such different people than what Buck had always known. 

But then again, _ he’s _a different person than he’d known, too. 

Maddie’s phone rings, the sound shattering the mood that had been building. 

“Oh, it’s Chim--_ Howie _,” Maddie stammers. “I said I would talk to him after the service . . .”

“Go, answer it,” Patricia says, shooing Maddie away. “You should let him know how you’re doing.”

Maddie smiles gratefully at Patricia as she stands up and walks out of the kitchen. Buck can faintly hear her say, “Hey, Chim . . .” as she walks down the hall. 

Patricia watches Maddie for a few long moments before shifting to face Buck.

“You work with your sister’s boyfriend, right?”

Buck nods. A small smile forms on Buck’s face as he thinks of Chimney. 

“Yeah, yeah I do. He’s a great guy. He’s really kind.” 

“That’s good,” Patricia says with a content-sounding sigh. “Your sister deserves someone good after all that she’s dealt with.”

“Yeah, she does . . .”

Buck watches his mother as he mutters the words. He looks at her, and part of him hopes that she wasn’t being totally honest when she said she was completely alone here--that _ no one _really came by for very long. Buck doesn’t want to wrap his head around the image of her wandering through this house alone, day in, day out. Buck doesn’t understand how she could do it. 

“Hey . . . Mom?”

Patricia peers at Buck from over the rim of her wine glass. She carefully puts the glass down and offers him a gentle smile.

“Hm?”

“. . . Was it . . . hard? Being here, I mean. Being here after Maddie and I both left. Alone.”

Alone with _ Edward. _And then just alone.

Patricia watches Buck for a moment. Then, she nods very slowly.

“In the beginning, yes,” Patricia admits. “Especially when your father was having one of his . . . tantrums. And then . . . I had a hard time when he first left.” 

Buck’s heart sinks. He looks away from Patricia, peering down at the table beneath his hands. He thinks of that phone call again. Buck wonders what things would be like if he’d say something different on the phone that day: if his tone had been different, if he’d listened to what she had to say. If he’d just simply decided to listen instead of reacting. 

Patricia reaches over and takes Buck’s hand.

“But, you know something, Evan?”

Buck looks up at her, struggling to keep himself together.

“I learned something after your father left, Evan,” Patricia says quietly. “Or rather, I _ accepted _ something when he left.” 

Buck blinks at her. Her face blurs thanks to the tears in his eyes. But Buck can still see the smile on her face.

“I finally accepted that your father was who he was, and that I didn’t have much to do with it.,” Patricia shrugs. “There’s no use combing through our marriage for answers. He was just _ him. _ There was _ nothing _ any of us did that made him that way.” 

Buck’s heart flutters as Patricia speaks. She says it as if it’s the most simple thing in the world, and Buck has heard it so many times now, but it’ll never _ not _shock Buck. 

Because there’d always been that part of Buck that whispered that it was his fault, somehow. He was a bad kid, and _ that’s _ why his father was a bad father. Buck was a bad son, and _ that’s _ why his mother ended up having to live alone for all this time. Buck was a bad _ person, _ and _ that’s _why the good things in his life—his job, Abby, Eddie—could disappear in an instant. 

It’s a declaration that’s followed Buck his whole life: _ I am bad. I’m in trouble. It’s my fault. I am bad. _Buck had internalized it, and it had cropped up in every part of his life. 

But now, here’s his mother, who could, and maybe even _ should _ be mad at him, telling him that the one lesson he’d taken care to learn—the one that had been drilled into his head all his life—was _ wrong. _

“The only thing . . .” Patricia begins. She stops and purses her lips together. Her face contorts into an uncertain look. 

But, as quickly as it came, the look fades, and Patricia continues.

“The only thing that I wish was different is what happened with you and Madison.” Patricia nods to herself. “I should have never allowed you to be exposed to that. _ That’s _the only part of my life that I would change.”

“Mom . . .” Buck’s voice cracks, and his eyes sting. “Mom, we aren’t mad at you. We don’t _ blame _you for any of it.”

“_I _blame me, Evan,” Patricia retorts with finality. “It’s the only thing I blame myself for. You two would be much happier people if I had made a different decision when you were young.” 

Buck stares at her now. For once, he wishes he could stop himself from crying. 

“I’m okay,” Buck says. “I’m—we’re gonna be okay.” 

Buck doesn’t know if it’s even true. But that's all he wants to say. 

Patricia chuckles lightly, and she moves her hand to Buck’s cheek. 

“We will be,” she says. 

They fall quiet, now; the two of them sit at the old dining room table, Patricia’s hand resting on Buck’s again. The feeling is so soothing that makes Buck want to cry even more. 

“You don’t have to _ stay _here, Mom,” Buck finds himself saying. 

Patricia looks at him with confusion. Buck should be confused, too—he didn’t plan to offer this at all. But the more he talks, the more sure he feels. 

“You could come back with us! We can help you get set up and everything.”

Patricia narrows her eyes at Buck, searching his face. Buck feels a pang when he realizes that she’s trying to determine whether or not he’s being serious. But, after a few moments, Patricia smiles again.

“Thank you, Evan,” she says in a soft voice. “That’s really, very sweet. But, this is _ my _house now. After all this time, it’s my place, and there’s peace and quiet. I want to live with this for a while, okay?” 

“Are you sure? Like, are you really _ sure _?” 

Patricia nods. “I’m positive. Having my kids back is enough. I’m going to be just fine.” 

Patricia pulls Buck into a hug. It should be awkward, the way they’re half-sitting-half-standing, arms wrapped tightly around each other. But Buck leans his head against his mother’s shoulder, and he feels something uncoil in him. 

“I did miss you, son,” Patricia whispers.

Buck squeezes her. 

“I missed you, too.”

##

Buck falls asleep easily tonight.

He doesn’t toss and turn, or have any nightmares, or pull the covers tight over his head. 

Buck just sleeps, resting, lulled into sleep by the calm, soft sounds of snowfall. 

##

Buck wakes up before his phone alarm goes off. 

He sits up in the middle of the bed, rubbing his eyes as he reorients himself. The funeral is over, and the weekend is ending. It’s time to go back home. 

Buck turns his phone alarm off. Right after he does so, he gets a text message. 

**Eddie, 6:58AM: Hey, just checking on you guys. Seeing if you’re still coming home today.**

Buck’s heart skips a beat. He takes a deep breath as he replies.

**7:00AM: I’m good, thank you. I’ll see you in a few hours.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, you guys!

Buck should get this over with. 

That thought pops up in his head as he and Maddie ride home from the airport. It’s late; it’s a little past 5pm, and Buck and Maddie are slumped against each other in the backseat of their Lyft. Buck wants to crawl into a shower, stuff his face with Chinese food, and then crawl into bed. 

But he has unfinished business to attend to. And he needs to attend it to sooner rather than later. 

Buck has had one hell of a week. Yelling at Bobby, and then freaking out in front of the squad and attacking a guy on a call, and then kissing Eddie, and then kicking him out of his apartment? And _ then _ ignoring almost everyone else? So much has happened that it feels like weeks have passed. But it’s been less than four days. 

Buck snorts to himself. The way Buck managed to blow up his life in just a few days is almost a little funny. That takes real talent, Buck thinks. Not many people can cause a natural disaster that fast. 

But--not many people can _ survive _a natural disaster like that. So, that’s something. 

Buck pulls his phone out, moving carefully so he doesn’t jostle Maddie. If Buck’s going to get “this” over with, he needs to decide which _ this _he’s starting with. As if on instinct, Buck immediately goes to his text messages, his finger hovering over the messages labeled “Eddie.”

Does Buck really want to start _ here _ though? It’s Sunday, and it’s nearing dinner time, which means Eddie is probably enjoying his last few hours off of work with Christopher. This doesn’t seem like the best time for he and Buck to have the “I’m trying to let you down easy” talk. But they need to have it _ some _time, and the longer he waits, the worse it’ll probably be. 

Talking to Bobby--losing his job--is going to be quick: it’ll be a Band-Aid being ripped off. Abrupt, a little violent, _ painful, _ but quick _ . _

Losing Eddie? _ That _ will take much, much longer if Buck doesn’t do something now. That would take days and weeks of awkward silence, of seeing Christopher less and less, of falling out of sync with one another. That would take months of slowly realizing that they aren’t _ them _ anymore, that the partnership they built over the course of nearly two years has to end. It’ll be a slow, excruciating death. 

Buck doesn’t want to drag this out. 

Besides--Buck _ did _tell Eddie that he’d see him in a few hours. 

So, Buck takes a deep breath, and calls Eddie. Maddie peers at Buck as Eddie’s phone rings for what feels like an eternity. 

“Buck! Hey!” Eddie’s voice sounds eager, but _ nervous _, and it makes Buck’s heart sink. 

“Hey, Eddie. Um, is this a good time . . . ?”

“Yeah, yeah!” Buck can hear Eddie moving around; it sounds like he’s in his kitchen, moving pots around. “I was just, uh, trying to figure out what we’re gonna eat. What’s up? You back in town?”

“Yeah, we just got back. And I--” Buck bites the inside of his cheek. _ Let’s get this over with. _“--I was wondering if I could stop by and talk to you for a little bit? I mean, unless right now totally sucks--”

Eddie trips over his answer. “_ No, _ no! I mean-- _ yes _, you can come over. You can eat with us. Christopher’s dying to see you, anyway.” 

Warmth spreads through Buck’s chest when he hears Christopher’s name. 

“Okay. I’ll see you guys in about an hour?”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie’s voice softens. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

Buck hangs up the phone. He can feel himself trembling. Buck feels Maddie looking at him; she’s watching him through narrowed eyes. 

“You good?” 

Buck nods, even while his stomach is twisting into a giant knot. 

##

Okay. Just knock on the door. 

Buck’s been standing here, shifting his weight from one foot to another, for entirely too long. He didn’t drive over to Eddie’s house just to stand in front of the door all night. There’s no point in him being too scared to face Eddie, especially not at _ this _point. 

Buck takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. Only a few seconds later, the door swings open, and Buck is looking at Christopher. 

“_ Buck! _”

Christopher’s smile is blindingly bright as he wraps his arms around Buck’s waist. Buck’s eyes sting as he smiles down at Christopher and hugs him tightly. 

“Hey, buddy. How you doing?”

Christopher peers up at Buck. “I’m doing good. I missed you.”

Buck ruffles Christopher’s hair. “I missed you, too, kid.” 

“Chris, are you gonna let him come in? Or, are you two gonna stand outside all night?” 

Eddie’s voice startles Buck; Buck’s heart starts jumping around in his chest wildly as they meet eyes. Eddie smiles at Buck, and Buck feels a little dizzy. Oh, God, he’s got to get it together. 

Eddie gestures for them to come inside. Christopher grabs Buck’s hand and pulls him along. Buck pushes the door close behind him and walks inside slowly, being careful of Christopher’s crutches. 

“We made spaghetti and meatballs!” Christopher cheerfully reports. 

“That sounds good!” 

Christopher beams at him. But, after a few more steps, Christopher squeezes Buck’s hand, bringing him to a stop. 

“Can I ask you something?” Christopher says in a quiet voice. 

Buck leans down to Christopher's level. “Yeah, Chris?”

“Are you feeling okay? My dad said you might be a little sad because of your dad.”

Buck’s heart breaks in half. He barely holds back tears as he nods. 

“I’m okay, Chris. I’m--I’m okay.” 

##

Dinner is so easy that Buck almost forgets why he came over. 

It’s easy to just sit here, eat dinner, let Christopher fill him in on his week. Christopher has endless stories about his classmates and schoolwork, and Buck wants to hear every single one of them. Buck is so relaxed and comfortable that it almost feels like the week didn’t happen at all. 

It’s only when dinner is over--when Eddie is telling Christopher that he needs to get ready for bed because he has school tomorrow--that Buck remembers the dread from before. Eddie looks at him with an unreadable expression, and Buck has to remind himself that he _ chose _to come over here. He could’ve just gone home and tried to sleep all his troubles away, but he chose to be proactive. 

Eddie takes Christopher into his room to help him wash up and put his pajamas on. Buck busies himself by clearing the dinner table and putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Buck knows how to work Eddie’s dishwasher better than he knows how to work his own. It’s kind of funny how easy it is to get used to someone else’s house like this. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Buck jumps at Eddie’s words. He whips around to see Eddie leaning in the doorway, watching him with a nervous smile. 

“It’s no problem,” Buck says with an awkward shrug. “I might as well be helpful since I intruded on your dinner.” 

Eddie dismissively waves a hand at Buck. “You didn’t _ intrude. _ If I thought you were intruding, I would’ve told you that it wasn’t a good time for you to come over.” 

“I guess that’s true,” Buck says. 

A weird silence falls on them. Buck glances down at his feet. The feeling of discomfort is starting to creep onto him. Buck’s not used to feeling so hesitant and unsure around Eddie. 

“How are you doing?” Eddie asks. “After this week, I mean. I know it had to be . . . hard.” 

Buck looks up at Eddie to see that soft look in his eyes again. Buck will probably never be used to the way Eddie looks at him. 

“It _ was _hard,” Buck says with a sigh. “But . . . I’m feeling better. Much better, actually. Going home, seeing my mom . . . it helped me deal with a lot of stuff. It helped me really understand that what my dad did wasn’t any of our faults.” 

“That’s good,” Eddie says with eagerness in his voice. “That’s really good, Buck. I’m glad.” 

Another silence, and now Eddie is the one shifting around uncomfortably. Buck’s starting to fidget and squirm. 

_ Just blurt it out, Buck _ , Buck thinks to himself. _ Just blurt it out. _

“Look, about the other day--” 

“I didn’t stop kissing you because I don’t like you,” Eddie says abruptly, cutting Buck off. 

Buck’s caught off guard. “Huh?” 

Eddie stands up straight and sighs. “The last time I saw you, when we kissed . . . I didn’t stop the kiss because I don’t like you. That’s not what I meant to imply.” 

Buck peers at Eddie skeptically. Eddie stands a little straighter and lifts his chin, but Buck can still see the nervous, wary look in his eyes. 

“Well, then, why _ did _ you? There’s only so much that stopping a kiss can imply, and you _ not liking _me is the obvious implication, Eddie.” 

Eddie flinches at the sound of his own name, and his eyes dart to the ground for a moment. Buck looks at the way Eddie avoids his eyes, and he almost wishes it was impatience he was feeling instead of the overwhelming fear of even more rejection. It’d be easier if Buck could be rude right now and just demand that Eddie _ spit it out _ and leave him alone to deal with it. 

Eddie looks Buck in the eye again. He looks like it’s taking a toll on his nerves to do so.

“Look--I stopped the kiss because I was worried that you didn’t actually _want_ to kiss me . I thought you only did it because you were so upset and needed to feel better.”

Buck blinks at Eddie as he processes the words. “You thought . . . You thought I was _ using _you?”

“No, not _ using _ me, just that you were in a _ really _bad place,” Eddie explains. “I thought it would be one of those situations where something would happen, and then later you realized that you didn’t actually mean whatever you said or did. Because stuff can happen when you’re mad, sad or hurt like that, you know?” 

“I mean, yeah,” Buck says slowly. “So . . . you thought that _ I _ didn’t actually want _ you _? That I would change my mind about you once I felt better?” 

Eddie nods. His jaw looks tense, and he’s starting to look more than a little sad. 

“And that if I’d kept kissing you, I’d just be taking advantage of how you were feeling at that moment.” 

The words don’t make sense to Buck’s ears; it’s so the opposite of what he’d been grappling with for days now. Buck had convinced himself that he’d effectively ruined his relationship with Eddie by going too far too fast--by moving in on someone who didn’t want him. But here Eddie is telling him that _ he’s _ insecure about how Buck feels about him. Can Eddie _ really _not tell what Buck’s feeling? Is it not obvious to him? 

“I wanted to be sure that you actually _ like me _, Buck,” Eddie says. “Because I don't think I could have handled it if something happened between us, and you realized that it was a mistake. Or, if you felt like I was pushing myself on you.” 

Buck looks at Eddie in awe. Eddie really _ can’t _see that Buck’s been head over heels for him for forever. It’s an odd, almost funny thought. 

Buck dawdles towards Eddie, stopping when he’s within arm's reach. Eddie watches Buck warily as Buck approaches him.

“Eddie, I kissed you because I’ve wanted to kiss you for a _ long _ time,” Buck says. “And I know my timing kinda sucked. But, I don’t suddenly like you just because I’m going through something. I think I’ve liked you this whole time.”

“Really?” Eddie asks with a shy smile.

“_Yes _ , really. I’d assumed that _ you _were the one that didn’t like me.” 

“Oh, no, I _ definitely _ like you, Buck. I have for a while now.” Eddie laughs a little as he says it. “I was just worried about doing too much, too fast. Especially when you had _ this _going on.” 

Buck smiles as his face starts to heat and his heart starts to flutter. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand, sliding his fingers between Eddie’s. 

“I appreciate the concern,” Buck says softly, “but I don’t think that’s possible. I want to do whatever you want to do at whatever speed you want to do it.”

Eddie grins broadly. “If that’s the case . . . can I kiss you?”

Buck giggles, feeling giddy and light. “Yes, please.” 

This kiss is a lot like their first--soft, tender, gentle in a surprising way. But, this time, there’s no worry, or fear, or anxiety under Buck’s skin. There’s no static in his brain, no storm clouds on the horizon, no nagging voice spewing venom in Buck’s mind. 

There’s just him and Eddie, standing close, kissing each other slowly. As if they have all the time in the world. 

“Thanks for coming over,” Eddie murmurs against Buck’s lips. 

Buck gives Eddie a wide, goofy grin. 

“Thanks for letting me in.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, y'all!

Bobby calls Buck early in the morning. 

The last bit of sleepiness vanishes when Buck sees Bobby’s name on his phone screen. Buck sits up straight, ignoring the sudden dizziness he feels. 

It’s 7:30 on a Monday morning; Bobby is either already at the station or on his way to the station. Him calling Buck now means that it’s one of his top priorities for the day. 

“Hey, Bobby,” Buck says. “What’s up?” Buck cringes at the sound of his own voice. He sounds so  _ nervous.  _

Thankfully, Bobby doesn’t call him on it. “I wanted to check on you. I’d heard you got back into town last night?”

Buck frowns at the sound of Bobby’s words; he sounds nervous, too. Plus, the only way he could know Buck was back in town is if he talked to either Eddie or Chimney  _ before  _ calling Buck. Buck suddenly has a mental image of Bobby psyching himself up to call Buck, pacing around nervously before deciding on when to call and what to say. He’s not sure if he likes that thought. 

“We got in yesterday, like around 5 or something,” Buck responds. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything yesterday . . .”  _ Or any of the days before. _

“You don’t have to apologize, Buck,” Bobby says. “I realize that you had a lot going on. And that you probably weren’t very keen on speaking with anyone.” 

Buck, uncomfortable, draws his knees up to his chest. This conversation is already starting to veer into the potentially troublesome territory. 

“ . . . Yeah, I guess I did. And--I wasn’t. But, I still should’ve said something.” 

“Well, I’m not going to hold it against you.” 

There’s still nervous energy on Bobby’s words. It sounds a little like uncertainty, and maybe even a bit of fear. Bobby is only making Buck more anxious, and Buck is beginning to feel a familiar urge to rush this conversation, to yell,  _ Just spit it out  _ so that it can be over with. 

“Listen, Buck,” Bobby says, “I’m calling because I wanted to invite you to dinner with me and Athena tonight. Michael’s got Harry and May tonight, so we thought you could come over.”

Wait. What?  _ That’s  _ not where Buck thought this was going. 

“ _ Really _ ?” 

“Sure! I figured it would be a good way to check in you. And, you know, talk about a few things.”

_ Oh _ . Buck’s shoulders slump as he realizes what Bobby’s  _ actually  _ proposing; he wants to have the tough conversation in a neutral space. Bobby’s done this before, and Buck’s knee-jerk reaction is to say no. 

But, instead: “Yeah, sure. That sounds good. What time?” 

“Is 6 okay?” 

Buck nods, only to feel embarrassed when he remembers that Bobby can’t see him.

“Yep, 6 sounds good. I’ll, uh, see you then?’

“See you then.”

Buck hangs up. For a moment, he just sits there, his phone hovering near his ear, wondering what just happened. Then, Buck puts his phone back on his bedside table, and gets out of bed, stretching as he stands. 

There’s no use in trying to go back to sleep. He’s wide awake now. 

##

The last time Buck tried to wallow in self-pity in his apartment, Eddie tricked him into taking Christopher out for the day. And that didn’t end well for anyone. 

So, Buck goes out. He tugs on a jacket, stuffs his wallet and keys into his pocket and leaves. He decides to do what Eddie told him to do that day and take a walk. The winter is already giving way to spring here, and the air feels warm against Buck’s face. 

Buck ends up in the park, people watching and eating a donut. There are a lot more people out than Buck thought they would be: elderly couples taking a stroll, dogs and their hurried humans, parents out with their toddlers. Buck sees babies still bundled up in thick coats and scarves and hats-- signs of overprotective parents trying to stave off whatever germs the weather may bring. And the sight makes him want to cry in the best way possible. 

Buck thinks he should take Christopher to the park sometimes. It’s been awhile since he’s babysat, especially since he’s back at work full-time now. The three of them need to spend a weekend together very soon. Maybe go to the zoo, or the planetarium since Christopher’s never been. They could just hang out--like a  _ family.  _

Jeez. Buck and Eddie  _ just  _ decided to date, and Buck is already thinking of them as a family. But, that might not actually all that weird. They’ve already been mistaken for a family before. When Buck really thinks about, he’s always been ready to be the emergency dad for Christopher. At the end of the day, it’s just as important to Buck that Christopher loves him as it is that Eddie loves him. 

When Buck was younger, he used to wonder what it would be like to make his own family. He thought he’d have a wife and kids, and maybe Maddie would live nearby. He never imagined that he’d have a firehouse full of people, a boyfriend, and a kid that he loves with all of his heart. 

And, for the first time ever, Buck can think that even if he loses his job again, he won’t lose this family. 

Buck got lucky. He got  _ really _ lucky. 

Buck’s phone starts ringing, and Buck grins when he sees whose name is on screen. Speak of the devil, and all that. 

“Hi, Eddie Diaz.”

“So, I heard you and Bobby have a date tonight. You already stepping out on me?” Eddie says without preamble. He speaks in a playful, but low voice; he’s definitely making sure Hen and Chimney aren’t eavesdropping.

“First of all,  _ ew.  _ Second of all, aren’t you supposed to be saving lives instead of spying on me?”

“Eh, getting in your business is more interesting. Especially since you’re sneaking around without me.” 

“ _ Gosh _ , Eddie. I never took you for the jealous type.” 

“Jealous type,” Eddie says with a scoff. Eddie chuckles, and, for a moment, the sound feels like a balm to Buck.

“But seriously, though,” Eddie continues, his laughter tapering off, “Bobby’s acting a little jittery about it, so I  _ know  _ you have to be, too.”

“I’ll have you know that I am perfectly fine,” Buck tries. “Not anxious at all.” 

Eddie scoffs again, and Buck can practically hear him rolling his eyes. 

“Look, I can call Abuela or Pepa have them watch Christopher for a few hours. Of course, that means they’ll be nosy as hell about the dinner, but you know how that is.”

Buck smiles; the fact that Eddie is fully prepared to be there for Buck makes Buck feel so warm inside.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Eddie,” Buck says. “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure? Because I don’t have any problem being there for back up.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Okay. You’re always free to send me an emergency text, though.” 

“And you’ll come to my rescue?” Buck asks with a laugh. But Buck already knows the answer.

“Of course,” Eddie says, and Buck can hear him smiling. “Always.” 

##

Nothing good ever comes of hanging out at Bobby and Athena’s house.

Buck thinks about the last few times he’s been here as he sits in their driveway. Buck’s experiences have ranged from getting into a life-altering argument to almost dropping dead in the middle of a party. It’s like their house hates him. 

There’s a part of Buck that wishes he had said “No” when Bobby called. Agreeing to meet with Bobby and Athena honestly feels like he’s setting himself for failure. 

But, Buck knows that talking to Bobby is the last of the “let’s get this over with.” Buck  _ needs  _ to do it. 

Buck sinks into the seat of his car. There’s a pain in his stomach, and it feels like it’s spreading through his chest and up his throat, too. It’s a tell-tale sign of anxiety. 

Buck shuts his eyes and grits his teeth. He needs to calm down, he thinks. He just needs to calm down, be an adult, and have this conversation. Maybe he’ll be able to make a case for himself. 

Okay. Deep breath in . . . let it out. Time to go. Buck gets out of the car and walks to the front door, muttering “relax, relax” himself the entire way. He knocks on the door, and he’s not standing there for 10 seconds when the door swings open to reveal a smiling Athena. 

“Hey, Buck. Come here.”

Athena pulls him into a tight hug. The hug is more calming than any pep talk Buck could give himself. Buck instantly misses her embrace when she lets him go and leads him inside. 

Buck takes another deep breath as he sits down at their table. The house is warm, and it smells like baked chicken and some spice that Buck can’t put his finger on. Buck doesn’t see Bobby when he glances around, but he can hear noise coming from what seems to be Bobby and Athena’s bedroom. 

“How are you?” Athena asks, drawing Buck’s attention back to her. She’s moving around the kitchen, taking dishes out of the oven. “And don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m . . . good.”

Athena quickly turns around and shoots Buck a  _ look.  _ Buck puts his hands up in surrender.

“Seriously, I am! I swear I’m not lying to you.” 

Athena narrows her eyes at Buck. “You and Bobby are too much alike,” she says skeptically. “You like to say ‘I’m fine’ when your whole life is falling apart.” 

“Whose life is falling apart?” 

Bobby emerges from their bedroom with a friendly smile on his face. “Hey, Buck! I’m glad you could make it.”

Buck nods. “I’m glad I was invited.” 

Bobby chuckles, but Buck can definitely see the agitation in his eyes. Buck watches Bobby as he walks into the kitchen with Athena and starts taking plates and utensils out of one of the cabinets. 

“By the way, Athena thinks my life might be falling apart,” Buck continues, his eyes on the silverware Bobby is placing on the counter. “I’m trying to convince her otherwise.” 

“Oh,” Bobby says. “So, I take it that means that you’re doing okay? All things considered?”

“Yeah, I am.” 

Bobby shoots Athena a quick look, and Athena quirks an eyebrow at him in response. Then she purses her lips, and Buck realizes that they’re about to have a silent argument that Bobby is going to lose. At this rate, Bobby’s not going to say whatever it is he needs to say to Buck. 

Buck’s gotta rip the Band-Aid off. 

“Bobby,” Buck says firmly. 

Bobby and Athena both look up at the Buck. 

“Yeah?”

“Did you call me over here to fire me?” 

Bobby’s face falls, and the look in Athena’s eyes softens, but Bobby doesn’t answer the question.

“Or, you know, suspend me or something?” Buck pushes. “Because you really could’ve done that over the phone, you know. I would’ve understood.”

“Buck, I’m not firing  _ or  _ suspending you,” Bobby says with a sigh. “To be honest, it kind of concerns me that you automatically assume that I would.”

It’s Buck’s turn to narrow his eyes at Bobby. “Then . . . what am I doing here? Because my conduct was definitely a little  _ off _ .”

Bobby and Athena share another look, holding for a few seconds longer than Buck is comfortable with. Bobby then walks out of the kitchen and sits down next to Buck. 

“I actually wanted to apologize,” Bobby says.

Buck blinks at Bobby, unsure if he’d heard him correctly. 

“Apologize?”

“Yes,” Bobby says with a nod. “Listen, Buck, I don’t think I handled your situation very well last week.”

Buck confusedly glances back and forth from Bobby to Athena. 

“I mean, you weren’t  _ wrong  _ to send me home,” Buck says. “Especially after what happened . . .” 

“Maybe not,” Bobby retorts, “ _ but _ I feel like I didn’t do anything to prevent you from getting to  _ that _ point. I . . . understand loss, and how hard it is to deal with in a healthy way. And since I understand that, I feel like I should’ve done a better job of working with you through this loss.” 

Buck just sits there for a moment, rendered speechless. It never occurred to him that  _ this  _ was an option, or that Bobby would feel this way at all. 

“I . . . appreciate that,” Buck says. “I really do. But . . . I’m not entirely sure if there was anything you  _ could  _ do to help me work it out.”

Bobby frowns, and his shoulder slump. “I know I’ve been tough on you, and I wasn’t the best example last week, but I’d like to think that I can offer you  _ something. _ ”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” Buck says in a rush. Then, in a more deliberate voice, he continues. “I mean . . .this . . .  _ my dad _ . . . it was . . . something that was inside of me. Like, it was something that I’d kept in for way too long? So,  _ I _ had to be the one to deal with it. I was the only person who really could.” 

Bobby watches Buck for a moment, his facial expression close to astonishment. Then he smiles proudly. 

“I understand that, too,” Bobby says. “But, everyone needs help dealing with their issues, sometimes. And I want you to know that I’m always here, and willing to help in the best way I can.”

“We  _ both  _ are,” Athena adds. “We’ve got your back.”

Buck smiles at them gratefully, and he swallows the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. This shouldn’t be a surprise to Buck; he knows who’s been there for him all this time. Really, if it weren’t for the support he’s gotten from Bobby and Athena, he wouldn’t have become the type of person who could go through something like this and come out on the other side. 

“So, I guess that means I can come back to work?” 

“You can come back whenever you’re ready,” Bobby says fondly. “Although, I hope you make it soon, because the team’s a little outta whack without you.” 

Buck’s smile grows even more. He can’t stop his eyes from watering this time.

“Thank you, guys.”

“Anytime, Buck.” 

A moment of silence falls on them, and the air in the house feels charged. It’s a mix of everything in their hearts spilling out and mingling together; the anxiety, the trepidation, the pride, the love. Then, Athena clasps her hands together, the sound cutting through the thick air. 

“Alright, now that the emotional stuff is done, can we eat now?” Athena asks in a playful tone. “Because I’m hungry.” 

Bobby and Buck both laugh, and Bobby goes back into the kitchen to help Athena. Buck watches them as they move around each other, and his heart feels full. 

He really did get lucky. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it!! Thank you all so much reading!
> 
> (Is it weird that I feel happy for Buck? lol)

Buck wakes up super early. 

He’s out of bed and getting dressed before his alarm even goes off. Buck moves around his bedroom with excited energy buzzing underneath his skin as he packs his bag. He even feels a little jittery, as if he’d had one more cup of coffee than he should’ve. It’s like the first day of kindergarten all over again; when you’re young, and everything is new, and you’re bouncing off of the walls because you’ve always wanted to go to the big school. 

Buck’s so ready to go back to work. 

He decided to do the adult, responsible thing and take a few days off after the dinner with Bobby. And, Buck has to admit that it was good for him; he finally got to  _ rest _ . Buck didn’t do anything more taxing than talking to Eddie (and Christopher) on the phone, and it was wonderful.

But he is  _ so  _ ready to be on duty again. Buck hasn’t been this eager to be back at the station since he got re-certified. But, somehow this feels different from then. When he was recertified, he started having clots, and he nearly died, and he had to become uncertain about his future. After the lawsuit, he was still on the outs with the squad, and he had to be uncertain about his relationship with them.

But coming back now . . . it feels like another chance. A real one, this time, without any concessions or qualifiers or anything that’ll make it harder than it needs to be. It’s like another new version of himself has been created, a more whole version of himself. 

Buck think he’ll like this version. Maybe this version will have better luck than the Bucks of old. 

Buck’s phone goes off, and he looks down to see that he has a text. He sits down on his bed as he reads it. 

**Eddie, 7:03 AM: Chris is demanding that I tell you that he said have a good day. Idk why he doesn’t think I’d do it when I actually see you ** **🙄**

Buck feels that familiar fluttering in his stomach, and he smiles so hard that it makes the muscles in his face ache. 

**7:07 AM: Tell Chris I said thank you very much. **

**7:08 AM: He probably thinks you’ll forget lol. We all know how you can get, Diaz. **

Buck can imagine Eddie making a face or rolling his eyes at his phone as he responds. He chuckles at the thought of Eddie’s furrowed brow or up-turned nose. 

**Eddie, 7:11 AM: You know, I don’t like how you and Chris gang up on me. I think he’s a bad influence on you.**

**7:15 AM: Probably is, but I don’t mind. You’ll keep us in line, right? **

Buck throws his bag over his shoulder and walks out to his car. Eddie texts Buck back as Buck’s sliding into the driver’s seat. 

**Eddie, 7:23 AM: Sure will. **

Buck loves them. He really, really loves them. 

##

Surprisingly, the first person Buck sees when he walks into the station is Athena. 

“ _ There _ you are,” Athena says with a sly smile. “I’ve been waiting on you.” 

Athena rolls her eyes, but smiles and pulls Buck into a hug. 

“I’m in trouble already?” Buck asks playfully. “Wow, I just got here.” 

“Trouble follows you,” Athena says as the embraces ends. Then she nods towards the stairs. “But walk and talk with me for a second.” 

Buck nods and follows Athena up the stairs. Despite his good mood, Buck still has to cycle through the hundreds of increasingly-improbable possible reasons for Athena to be here this morning. 

“I wanted to talk to you about a case we’re investigating,” Athen starts, turning to look Buck in the eye. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. It’s about RJ--the young man who crashed his dad’s car last week?”

Buck’s stomach drops, and he blinks as he remembers the look of fear on that kid’s face. All the anger Buck felt on that day starts rush back into him. 

“Is he okay?” Bucks asks in a strained voice. 

“He’s okay--he’s staying with his aunt now,” Athena says. “What I wanted you to know is that CPS has opened an investigation into RJ’s home life. As it turns out, we weren’t the only ones who had  _ concerns  _ about RJ’s dad.”

Buck recalls the terrified look on the man’s face when Buck grabbed him. He feels a sense of satisfaction that he’s not necessarily proud of. 

“That’s good,” Buck says resolutely. “Thanks for telling me.” 

“Thank you for caring so much,” Athena says, a hint of something close to pride in her voice. She puts a hand on Buck’s cheek. “The world needs more hot-headed Buckleys who care.” 

Buck can feel tears on the edge of his eyes, and he tries his best to fight them.

“Please don’t make me cry before my day actually starts,” Buck mumbles.

Athena laughs loudly as Buck rubs at his eyes. 

At that moment, Bobby and Eddie walk up the stairs, curiously peering at the scene in front of them. Buck sees Eddie, and his heart skips a beat. 

“Who’s making who cry?” Bobby asks with a hesitant smile. 

Athena walks over and wraps her arms around Bobby. 

“We’re all good,” she says sweetly. 

Eddie steps over and runs a hand down Buck’s arm, leaving a trail of sparks on Buck’s skin. 

“You sure you good?” Eddie asks softly. 

Buck moves closer and kisses Eddie on the lips. 

“I’m great. I promise,” he mutters, and Eddie grins. 

“Hey!” Buck suddenly hears Chimney yell. “No kissing during the shift, Buckley!”

They all look down to see Chimney and Hen below, watching them with joy on their faces. Hen chuckles at Chimney’s teasing, and Buck feels his face burn. Buck makes a face at Chimney while Eddie ducks his head, laughing with embarrassment. 

“That’s not a rule unless Cap says it’s a rule!” Buck yells back. 

Bobby walks over and clasps his hand onto Buck’s shoulder. 

“I am going to have to ask you two to refrain from kissing until your shift is over,” Bobby says with faux seriousness. “That is, in fact, the rule.” 

“This feels unfair,” Buck grumbles.

Bobby barely keeps it together as nods at Buck. 

“Sorry, son. That’s how it has to be.” 

Buck stares at Bobby, trying and failing to fake animosity. It only takes a few seconds of Bobby staring back to make them both laugh loudly. And their laughs make Eddie laugh even louder. Eddie looks at them with a reddening face and a broad grin. 

“I don’t think we’re mature enough for this,” Eddie says. 

Buck leans onto Eddie, pressing his shoulder against him. He looks into Eddie’s eyes, and almost forgets that everyone else in the room, too. It’s just him and Eddie and this overwhelming, happy feeling. Buck reaches down and takes Eddie’s hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“I think we’re good,” Buck says, and his heart melts at the soft look in Eddie’s eyes. “We’ll be fine.” 

##

It’s warm this evening.

Spring is impatient; it’s coming early. A new season barging in on the last, leaving no time for the cold to linger any longer. 

The warm air caresses Buck’s face as he and Maddie walk into her apartment. It’s Buckley Night, the first real one in way too long. Buck walks closely behind his big sister, smiling as he listens to the sound of her voice. They talk about work and weird calls and their weird city, and Buck has never been more grateful to be in this space at this time. 

He’s never been more grateful to be  _ here,  _ with his family, in a city in which they’ve made an impossible life together. 

As they walk inside of Maddie’s place, Buck’s phone rings. It’s an unsaved number, but Buck sees the 717 area code and smiles. Maddie peers down at the phone, and her eyes brighten. 

This time, Buck answers with no hesitation, and nothing but love in his voice.

“Hey, Mom. How’re you doing?” 


End file.
